Britannia's Children
by Muse of Schleissheim
Summary: The Zero Requiem was supposed to make hatred a thing of the past. But it is not to be. Unable to let go of their hatred, the UFN has ground Britannia into the dirt. Britannia awaits the arrival of one who can lead it to glory once more. It is fitting, that as Lelouch destroyed his father's order, so shall his children destroy his. The Zero Requiem is no more. Britannia shall rise.
1. Chapter 1 Demise of a Sovereign

Britannia's Children

No plan is perfect. This was an immutable, unescapable fact. No matter how one tried, any plan they crafted would be burdened with some flaw, unforeseen or otherwise. In the case of Lelouch vi Britannia's Zero Requiem, the flaw was thus: he had failed to remember that humans will always hate.

The Zero Requiem was designed to bring peace to the world, ostensibly by focusing their hate on a single person and then ridding the world of that person, Lelouch himself. He indeed succeeded in making most of the world hate him, and when Lelouch, the Demon Emperor, the Bloody Tyrant, the Smiling Devil, was smote by Zero's blade people everywhere did indeed rejoice. For a time, as Britannia relinquished its overseas holdings and began to preach friendship and equality with other nations, it seemed as if all humanity would know peace and happiness, bought by the Britannian Emperor's sacrifice.

But it was not to be.

For while the world indeed hated Lelouch and sought to make sure his ilk would never rise again, they also hated the Britannian Empire, without which the oppression and war of the Emperors would not have been possible. Just as they hated Lelouch vi Britannia, so to did they hate his allegedly vile nation, especially those who had suffered under the yoke of the Area system. With Britannia's new attitude of reconciliation, many saw their chance for revenge.

Gradually, Britannia found itself increasingly isolated, both diplomatically and economically. Few nations wished to have even cool relations with the former empire, now reduced to a principality as part of Empress Nunnally's reorganization. Tariffs were implemented and reparations demanded, mostly after Britannia had disarmed herself willingly in an act of goodwill and allowed its colonies to have their independence. Reduced to the North American continent above the Rio Grande river, Britannia no longer had the resources to operate in a self-sufficient manner. Thus, the tariffs devastated her trade, and the reparations were forced upon her at gun point, for while Britannia had disarmed, the UFN and other polities had not.

It was only as her people suffered and starved while the world watched gleefully, that Nunnally, now merely the sovereign of the Britannian Principality, realized that she had misjudged those who professed to want peace. Any attempts to reverse or reduce the impoverishment of her nation or its inability to defend itself were met with scorn and threats of force from the UFN and the Black Knights, no longer under the control of Zero after they ousted him over his objections to Britannia's treatment and his questionable loyalties with the revelation of a secret marriage to Nunnally. His parting words to the UFN Assembly would prove prophetic:

"What we have is no peace. It is merely an armistice which will not last the century. I have done my best to foster good will and prosperity, but my efforts have been undermined by lesser men. Many have demanded I apologize for my refusal to go along with the criminal treatment of a sovereign and proud nation, but I will offer no apologies except to those children too young to understand what is happening and to those yet unborn. For it is they who will pay for the consequences of our actions today, and for many it will be the ultimate price."

True to Zero's words Britannia simmered and seethed with resentment. Not only for the memory of what had been taken from them not by battle and war but through trickery and malice, but for the scorn and insult that the world heaped and heaped upon the memory of one of Britannia's most beloved Emperors. For while he was known as a tyrant to much of the world, in the Britannian homeland and in many of the former colonies he was known as Lelouch the Liberator, the champion of the Numbers and the scourge of noble privilege and corruption. Quite a few of Britannia's former territories longed for reunification with the homeland, having been promised freedom and economic growth upon release but instead finding famine and poverty as the world turned a blind eye to their suffering, not willing to foot the bill to feed these young nations.

Thus, what had been the richest nation in the world was excluded from the new economic order, left to rot as punishment for crimes committed by their forefathers. Across the world the very image of the St. Darwin's cross was criminalized. Britannians who emigrated in search of a better life and those who had lived abroad for generations were treated with scorn and even actively discriminated against in areas such as Japan, where hatred of the old empire was hottest.

Britannia endured this situation for two decades, hoping fervently for their chance to come again, for a leader and savior on par with Lelouch the Liberator to come to their aid. They had tried forgiveness and friendship with the world once, and after the calamities and insults which had been heaped upon her Britannia would never trust the world again. Every night, former nobles and soldiers of the empire prayed for the chance to take up arms again to avenge their home, and subjects toasted Emperor Lelouch in taverns and parlors when the foreigners weren't looking.

Britannia's chance at revenge would come, ironically, at a time when she was ostensibly most vulnerable. For in the year 2039 A.T.B., the Sovereign Nunnally vi Britannia was on her deathbed. While she had a son, he had not been named heir to the throne for reasons unfathomable to everyone not informed of the true situation of the royal family. Many feared that upon her death, Nunnally's refusal to name a direct heir would plunge the country into chaos. But this was not to be.

For just as Lelouch had unwittingly thrown Britannia to the wolves, so too would he provide the means of its salvation.

* * *

_April 15__th__, 2039 A.T.B._

The impending death of the sovereign had put the whole nation of Britannia into a fit of hysterical mourning. Nunnally vi Britannia, for all that she had presided over the lowest point of Britannia's fortunes, was a monarch looked upon with fondness and adoration by the masses. Not only was she the sister of the Liberator, but she had done her best to lessen the sufferings of her people, and in many ways had suffered with them.

Lying in her bedchambers, the sovereign met her coming demise with remarkable composure. She managed to still smile the same smile that had won the loyalty and love of her subjects, and she still carried the quiet strength that had let her endure the insults heaped upon her and her nation with dignity. Zero, her loyal consort, stayed by her side constantly, along with their son the Prince William.

Many came by the sovereign's bedside to pay their last respects or to express their sorrow at her passing. The political elites expressed equal remorse and sorrow, along with one additional emotion.

"Please, your majesty, you must name an heir. Prince William may be young, but he is of sound mind and capable. The UFN will smell blood in the water if you pass without a clear successor, and there are those that would use force to take the throne in light of the unclear succession!"

Edward Mountbatten, former Grand Duke of New England, prostrated himself before his dying sovereign, desperate to fix what he and others believed to be an impending disaster. There had been whispers of what would happen if Nunnally died without having declared her son William as heir. Undoubtedly there would be those who believed he should be crowned anyway, but others would attempt to seize the throne for themselves, believing that Nunnally's refusal to name her own son crown prince indicated that she did not believe him fit to rule. And there was the even greater fear that the UFN, always eager to prosper at Britannia's expense, would declare the monarchy null and void and attempt to establish a republic. Nearly all Britannians viewed this as the darkest outcome: so many things had already been taken, and now the monarchy, symbol of their people and curator of Britannia's cultural and political heart, also stood poised to be stolen from them.

For the life of him, Edward Mountbatten could not understand why his sovereign, who in every other aspect of governance had proven to be a capable and gentle ruler, refused to budge on this issue, which everyone viewed to be a fatal mistake. Even the Prince William seemed perfectly at ease, never once raising the issue of his inheritance. Only Jeremiah Gottwald, Captain of the Guards, visibly expressed his sadness at what was happening. He stood in one corner of the room, fulfilling his duties even has he silently wept. Just as he had guarded Empress Marianne and Emperor Lelouch, so too would he guard Nunnally vi Britannia until she finally passed. Edward felt pity for the man; the last living member of the family Jeremiah had sworn his service to was not long for this world, and the man's heart was clearly broken into pieces.

The former Duke turned to his Prince. "Highness, please make your mother see sense! We stand on the brink of invasion and civil war if there is no one to take the crown!"

William simply shook his head, smiling sadly. The boy was remarkably composed, even with the grief he was no doubt going through. It was never easy to lose a parent at sixteen, especially when the world was so hostile to you based on your country of birth. The boy's emerald eyes shimmered as he shook his head. "I cannot. The throne is not mine to take."

Edward gaped incredulously at the royal family, unable to understand their stubbornness in this matter. Before he could protest further, Zero stood. "Lord Mountbatten," he began, earning the noble's attention. "We appreciate your concern in this matter; your urging of William to be named heir indeed shows you to be a true patriot. Were the situation different, my son would be set to sit upon the throne. But he is not first in line to inherit."

"What?" Edward asked, not understanding what they meant. Before he could ask any further questions, there was a knock upon the door. A servant entered and bowed. "Your Majesty, your guests have arrived. They are waiting outside."

"Send them in," Nunnally said, her voice weaker than usual but not wholly diminished. "Duke Mountbatten. I am sure my guests will ease your worries about the succession. Contrary to public perception, it has been secure for some time."

Before he could ask what that meant, the sound of footsteps caught his attention, and before long a small group of people were ushered into the royal bedchamber. Due to the room's large size, Edward did not feel cramped with the additional persons, but nonetheless he found himself captivated.

One of them he immediately recognized as the long missing consort of Emperor Lelouch, appearing to be the same age she had been on the day of her husband's death. He did not recognize those standing behind her, one a man accompanied by what appeared to be his wife and their small child while the other was a woman clad in a uniform of military cut. To Edward's experienced eye, one thing was clear.

Standing before him was royalty.

The man was tall and lean, bearing a striking resemblance to the former Emperor Lelouch. He even had a similar facial structure, and his hair was the same raven color. His eyes gave him away as being a different person, as they were possessed of the same amber color of the Emperor's consort. Beside him the second woman, whom Edward guessed was his wife by the way they stood close together, exhibited the same air of nobility. She was tall and lean like her husband, and possessed long blond hair that was curled in an immaculate style. Her eyes were like sapphires, and were Edward not himself a married man (and undoubtedly at least twice the woman's age) he would have found himself smitten.

Both were dressed in a rich but tasteful manner. The man wore a black three-piece suit with a blue vest and white shirt. A white ascot hugged his neck, and the man looked entirely comfortable and confident in his presentation. A simple gold wedding ring adorned his left ring finger. His wife wore a dazzling blue dress, decorated with strategically placed jewels to catch the light. She wore a small silver necklace with a sapphire, and on her left ring finger a gold wedding band also glimmered. Their infant child was swaddled in blankest and was being held and cooed at by the blonde woman.

The other woman in the ensemble held an equal air of dignity, but as previously mentioned she held a more martial flair. Her uniform was very similar to that worn by the Princess Cornelia in her days as a general, and Edward even spied an ornate but clearly functional rapier strapped the woman's waist. The woman bore more of a resemblance to the consort, but with raven hair and the violet eyes of the royal family. Unlike the rest of the entourage she was more expressive with her grief, clearly holding back tears over what she was witnessing.

Edward took these people in at a glance, and with the words of his sovereign combined with their appearance he had a suspicion as to who they were. He composed himself and gave a formal court bow. "My Lady Cecilia, it has been a… long time. You haven't aged a day."

He thought he heard the Prince Consort suppress a snort, but he studiously ignored it as the lime haired woman smiled wryly at him. "Indeed it has, Lord Mountbatten. It does gladden me to see that you have continued your service to the country even after my husband's passing. Britannia has been in need of good men these past years."

The former consort, Cecilia (for reasons unknown to Edward, neither she nor the former Emperor had shared her name with many, and he did not now what he had done to earn the right to know) looked to the Sovereign and performed a deep curtsy, followed with a bow and curtsies performed by her entourage. "Nunnally… I wish this was under better circumstances. You've been incredibly kind to us."

The Sovereign's face seemed to brighten with joy at the sight of the three people before her, even with her impending death. "C.C.," she said with genuine happiness, and sorrow. "I'm glad I could see you all again. Come closer, let me get a good look at all of you."

The group approached, though Lady Cecilia (C.C.? Was that some sort of affectionate nickname?) made her way to the Prince Consort and exchanged greetings. The other three adults, all with solemn steps and gazes, approached the sovereign. She smiled even brighter as she looked to each one. "Robert. Emeline. Catherine. You are all so grown and beautiful. Lelouch would be proud."

The raven-haired woman, Emeline, choked back a sob. "Auntie…"

Edward's eyes widened, his suspicions from earlier all but confirmed. Suddenly, many more things regarding the family's attitude to the succession made sense.

Nunnally kept her smile, but it was clearly pained. "I am not long for this world. While I am sure this is not what your father would have wanted for you, he is gone, and in the meanwhile our kingdom and people suffer. Robert, come here."

Robert approached the Sovereign, kneeling beside her as he took her hand in both of his. Prince William got up from his chair, giving a small greeting to the man before going to the two women to exchange pleasant words. For his part Robert gazed resolutely at the Sovereign, his face visibly emotional.

"Do you remember the first time we met, Auntie?" he said finally, giving a watery smile.

She giggled. "How could I forget? You were just a boy, but you looked at me with such resolute and strong eyes. Though your greeting left something to be desired."

The man chuckled, somewhat embarrassed. "I remember stuttering over every other syllable. I was in shock over meeting a genuine queen I imagine."

"Yes, a queen," Nunnally said distantly, before her eyes hardened with resolution. "A queen must have an heir to take up her throne when she is gone. From the day that you were born, that heir has been you, Robert. Both by right of succession and merit. Never once have I doubted your ability to rule ably, even as early as your childhood. You may even have the potential to be a greater ruler than your father. But before we discuss that…"

The Sovereign turned towards Edward, causing him to stiffen. "Lord Mountbatten. While you are a trusted servant of the Crown, this is something that needs to be done in private. You will be called for later to verify important documents, but before that allow me some words with my niece and nephew."

"Of course, Majesty," Edward said, bowing at the waist. He directed smaller bows to the now confirmed other royals. "Highnesses, please excuse me."

With that Edward back out of the room, shutting the door himself. He made his way down the hall, hoping to get some refreshment. He really wanted a stiff drink, but as the Prime Minister it would be remiss of him to imbibe alcohol while his duties demanded attention. The bourbon could come later.

Things were about to become very interesting in Britannia, of that there was no doubt.

* * *

When the Lord Mountbatten exited the room, Robert looked back to his aunt, allowing his emotions to flow more freely now that only family was here.

"Auntie…" he gasped, tears beginning to escape his eyes. "I'm not sure I'm ready."

"No one is ever ready," Nunnally said, stroking her nephew's hand. "I was only fifteen when I was crowned, and many of our greatest emperors and empresses were scarcely older than that on the day of their ascension. Your father was only eighteen when he took the crown, don't you remember?"

"Yes," Robert whispered, his eyes downcast. This should not be happening, at least not in this way. If the world were fair, he would be having these words with his father, inheriting a rich and strong empire. His aunt would not be on her deathbed, finally succumbing to the stress of holding an impoverished nation together through one of the darkest periods of its history. But the world was not fair, and his people still needed him, unworthy as he was.

"You are worthy of the throne, Robert," Nunnally went on, her grip strong on his hand in spite of her fragile state. "You have your father's courage and skill, and unlike him you have family that will stay by your side no matter the outcome."

His aunt's eyes clouded over, and she seemed lost in thought and some guilt, if only for a moment. After a moment she smiled at him again. "Now, have your sister come here. I want to have words with her as well before we get to the ceremonial bits."

He nodded, standing up from beside the bed to wave Emeline over. He gave his sister's hand a short squeeze as they passed each other, offering what comfort and strength he could. Nunnally had been a solid presence in both their lives, and one of the few tangible links to their father outside of mother. Losing her would be hard, extremely hard. But they would weather it, together.

Emeline took his place at Nunnally's side, her sobs already echoing in the room. Even with her more martial leanings, she had adored her soft-spoken and gentle aunt who was bound to a wheel chair. Robert dared say this would be harder on Emeline than on him.

He made his way to his wife, who was standing with the rest of the royal family now. She quickly kissed him in greeting, her eyes expressing concern. "I know it is hard, love," she said. "I'm here."

Robert nodded, his eyes watery. Catherine could read his mood like few others, and he had a feeling that by tonight she would have coaxed out all of his feelings to help comfort him. He turned to the others, namely the Prince Consort and Prince William.

"Uncle, Cousin," he said with a smile, though it was pained. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

The mask of Zero nodded, the hiding of his face doing nothing to mask his grief at the impending loss of his wife. "All the same it is good to see you Robert. It's good to see all of you."

"I hope the courtiers didn't give you too much trouble?" William asked lightly, attempting to inject some levity into the situation. "They can be sticklers for protocol, that lot."

"I would have liked for them to have tried," his mother said as she ran a hand through her hair, her Cheshire smirk devoid of its usual smugness. "It would have been a good way to remind them of their place."

"Always the terror, aren't you?" Zero said, not feeling in the mood for levity but taking part nonetheless. "Sometimes I wonder how it was Lelouch leading everyone around and not you."

The smirk that Robert's mother shot towards Zero was more familiar to Robert, having that teasing and smug feel he was used to. "Well, a strong man requires a strong woman to support him, no? But it was amusing having the former Duke of Georgia bring pizza to my chambers. I'd do it again just to see the look on Lelouch's face one more time."

"Yes, I remember that," Zero chuckled, shaking his head. "You nearly drove us mad."

They all chuckled, welcoming the brief reprieve from their grief. It was not long lasting, for with a final choked sob Emeline left Nunnally's side and made her way to them from across the room.

"Uncle, William," she said, tears on her cheeks. "She wants to see you."

Zero nodded, placing his hand on William's shoulder. "Come, son."

The two men made their way back to the bed, and this time there was no conversation from the group as they watched.

Zero kneeled at the right side, taking his wife's hand in his after he removed his mask. The aged face of Suzaku Kururugi looked upon his love with tears, finally allowing the sheer grief he felt to surface. At Nunnally's left, William took her other hand, his lip trembling.

The Sovereign of Britannia turned to her son first, her smile one of love and pride.

"William," she said, each syllable crafted with the tenderest love a mother could give. "My son. You do not know how proud I am of you. You are one of the chief joys of my life, and while I have not been as good a parent at times as I could have been, know that I have always, and will always, love you. I could not have asked for a better son. You are kind, gentle, loyal, and brave. Keep these parts of you, my son, and be a rock upon which our people can stand safely. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Mother," William answered tearfully. "Anything you ask, I'll do it."

Nunnally nodded before turning to Suzaku, her smile now that of someone gazing upon their lover. "Suzaku… my love. We have been through much, seen so much, and I am grateful that I've had you at my side to share the burden. There were times when we couldn't stand to be in the same room with one another over some trivial thing, but I do not regret a second of the time that I have known you. You are the strongest, bravest, kindest man that I know, and no woman is more fortunate than me who was able to call you husband."

She paused, and just this once the Sovereign of Britannia's façade cracked to reveal the scared woman beneath, who knew she was leaving her family behind before long. She sobbed. "I… I love you so much, Suzaku. I'm s-sorry I'm leaving you now. You know I would have stayed with you as long as possible if I could have, right?"

"I know, Nunnally," Suzaku said tearfully, his smile pained but loving all the same. "I love you too, more than you know. You made my life worth living again when it had become a meaningless existence, and I have never been happier than when I was with you and our son."

The family stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, hoping against all hope that if they didn't leave, they could stay that way forever. Alas, reality was not so accommodating. With a last, tear filled goodbye, husband and son left the side of the woman they loved the most. William walked to a window, burying his face in his arm as he sobbed openly. Suzaku gave Nunnally one last kiss, filled with the utmost love and tenderness. He donned the mask of Zero as he left the bedside, but not before Robert saw his tear stained cheeks.

"Jeremiah," Nunnally said, turning towards the teary cyborg who had protected her for decades. "I know your duty is to the ruler of Britannia alone, but please… watch over my family?"

Jeremiah nodded, holding back his own sob. "I swear upon my honor, Your Majesty. No harm will come to them, even if I must sacrifice my life. I am bound to the vi Britannia line, now and forever."

The Sovereign nodded, a grateful smile on her face. "Thank you… now," she said, pushing a button that summoned one of the servants outside. He bowed at the waist as he entered, his face solemn.

"Your Majesty's wish?"

"Summon the ministers," Nunnally said, sitting back into her pillows. "It is time for my last duty as Sovereign."

The summons went out, and within minutes the room was crowded with the important ministers of the Britannian government. The Prime Minister, Lord Mountbatten, stood at the forefront, with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Minister of the Interior, the Foreign Office, and the First Lords of the Army and Navy respectively arrayed behind him. They all had their heads bowed.

"You are all wondering, I'm sure," Nunnally began, her voice composed but weak. "Why I have not named an heir even though my son, William, is more than capable of ably leading the realm. The reason is thus: before my brother, the Ninety-ninth Emperor, passed, he was able to lay with his consort and by her conceive two healthy children of able mind and ability. They stand before you now, Crown Prince Robert vi Britannia and Crown Princess Emeline vi Britannia."

Ignoring the shocked gazes of the ministers, Nunnally gestured to one of the servants in the room, who was holding a royal document. "By Imperial Britannian Law, as set down by my forefathers, the firstborn has right of inheritance barring any substantial doubts upon their ability, character, or soundness of mind. This document, signed by multiple witnesses sworn to silence at the time, upholds the legitimate and rightful claim of my brother's firstborn son, Robert vi Britannia, to the throne of his forefathers. That claim is also acknowledged by my own authority, and for the past decade he has been my heir to the Britannian throne. For reasons of safety and security, this was not revealed to the wider public."

The ministers murmured to themselves, though it was in understanding at the lack of a named heir instead of distaste at Robert and Emeline. Lord Mountbatten stepped forward. As part of this ceremony, which they all belatedly realized was a conferment of the authority of the crown, he fulfilled his role as the Prime Minister. "As the sworn Prime Minister of Britannia, I do hereby acknowledge Prince Robert vi Britannia's legal and just claim to the throne. Let my death be ignoble and terrible should I betray him."

With that the Prime Minister gave a stiff bow, and the other ministers followed suit after giving similar oaths. Nunally turned to her nephew.

"Come, Robert."

Robert gulped, his wife giving his hand one last squeeze before he walked to the Sovereign's bedside and knelt upon his knees, this time in subservience to the woman who was his liege.

"By my sole and sovereign right as the mon-as the _Empress _of the Holy Britannian Empire, I confer upon you, Robert vi Britannia, whose claim stems from his blood relation as my nephew and son of the previous Emperor my brother, the titles, duties, and responsibilities of the Crown. Do you swear upon your honor and blood to defend and uphold this charge?"

"I solemnly swear," Robert intoned, and briefly his aunt smiled.

"Excellent," she said, before without warning she slapped her nephew across the face with a loud _smack_. No one flinched, as it was part of the ceremony. "That is so you remember this vow."

With that Nunnally pulled the Britannian Imperial Ring from her hand before placing it in Robert's. As their hands were of far different sizes, he would be wearing a different one tailor made for him, but for the purpose of the ceremony he was handed the ring made for his aunt. She pulled him close after putting the ring in his hands.

"I have given you a heavy burden, my nephew. Some would say that I am damning you. But I know that of all those who could sit upon the throne, you alone have the strength of character and genius to see it restored to greatness," she said, pausing before her next words. "Save our people, Robert. They cry out for our aid; they look to our family for protection as they have for generations. I was unable to give them that protection, but where I have failed you can succeed. Restore our nation, make our subjects proud to be Britannian again."

"I will," Robert said, his voice firm as he gripped his aunt's hands. "I swear it."

"Good," she said, smiling at her nephew. "Your father is proud of you, Robert. I know it."

He nodded, not saying anything else for fear that he would break out into a sob. His aunt let go of his hands and bade him stand once again. He turned to the ministers, who, once he was properly crowned before the people, would be _his _ministers. The thought intimidated him beyond imagining, but he steeled himself.

_Father fought against the empire at seventeen, then the rest of the world at eighteen, and still won, _he thought. _I can – I _must _– have that same strength now. My country needs it._

"Your Majesty!" the ministers cried, prostrating themselves not to Nunnally, but to Robert. While he was not properly Sovereign until he was crowned, and that would not happen until days after his aunt took her last breath, for all intents and purposes he was now the Sovereign of Britannia.

"Long Live the Emperor!" Jeremiah cried, a cry soon taken up by his family and the servants, guards, and ministers surrounding him, all of them soon falling to their knees before him. Nunnally looked on, her face one of pride. Robert gazed upon each of them, his eyes steeled with determination.

Thus, the One Hundred and First Emperor of Britannia, Robert I, 'the Great', began his rule.

It was one which would see Britannia, and the world, plunged into war to revenge the wrongs of the past.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm sure those of you who follow my other story are surprised to see me starting something new. To be honest, this was created in a burst of inspiration (i.e., I pulled an all-nighter typing everything out at once, with no edits or drafts), but it's been something I've thought about for some time and always wanted to give a crack at.

To be frank, I have no doubt in my mind that the Zero Requiem would fail at some point. There's too much bad blood for the world to simply forget everything that happened before Lelouch's death. I can easily see other nations using the UFN to cut Britannia down to size after waiting for her to disarm and being unable to defend herself. That's more or less what happened to Germany at the end of World War I. Thus, we have this little rascal, created from my imagination of what a revisionist Britannia would look like in a post-R2 world.

To clarify, Lelouch in this story is dead. Absolutely, positively, 100% dead. He will not be making an appearance outside of mentions from various characters in the story, and his only contribution to the story is that he fathered two children who are not as enamored with the idea of world peace and utopia as he is. We'll even see some criticism of him, as various characters in the know about what actually happened outline just what they think of Zero Requiem.

With that, I bid you all adieu for now. For those of you wondering about Sonderweg, worry not, I've gotten off my ass and am trying to wrap up the next update. Hopefully it won't be too long before you guys see something on that end.


	2. Chapter 2 The Weight of the Crown

Disclaimer (since I forgot it in the previous chapter): I don't own Code Geass

Chapter One: The Weight of the Crown

In a testament to her strength of will, it took a further five days for Nunnally vi Britannia to finally pass from the world of the living. Representatives from the court would tell the populace that her death was a peaceful one, surrounded by family. They subsequently announced, when asked for the cause of death, that it was due to stress and fatigue finally catching up to her after a long and… difficult, reign.

Never mind that she was only thirty-six.

Nonetheless, the court also gave the more optimistic news that a successor had been named, though for reasons of security their identity would not be revealed to the public until the day of their coronation. Rumors ran rampant over who it could be. Many assumed that the Sovereign had finally seen sense, naming the Crown Prince as heir at last, while others believed that another noble had convinced her of their claim. Some believed that there was no heir at all, and that the UFN was set to invade any day. This last rumor was one of the few to have a hint of truth.

The UFN had pondered what would happen to Britannia if Nunnally died without naming her son heir, and a few of its more hawkish members indeed had called for the subjugation of the nation and the establishment of a republican government. They were swiftly shot down, mostly because such an occupation would be expensive to maintain both in material and lives, and there was little popular support for deploying sons and daughters to police what many thought was a dying nation.

Let the Britannians kill each other, the thinking went. It served them right.

Alas, the more bloody-minded of the UFN would not get their wish. Britannia, in spite of the uncertainty surrounding the situation of the Sovereign's death (it escaped few how young she was to succumb to _stress and fatigue_), did not fall into chaos. Those who would have stood to gain from claiming the throne after the Sovereign's death paused, the announcement that there was indeed now a named heir to the throne causing uncertainty over what to do. Inquiries were met with the same vague response.

_All will be revealed in time. For now, trust in the Crown._

While the rest of the world watched and waited, the royal family planned their next moves. They had a Sovereign to bury, a new one to crown, and a course to be set.

But first, affairs had to be set in order.

* * *

_Pendragon, April, 2039 A.T.B._

"_Poison?_"

The physician stared unflinchingly into Emeline's rage-filled gaze, which had cowed many a presumptuous student in her days at the military academy. He looked forward with a solemn but professional gaze, even nodding his head at the female royal's hissed query.

"I am afraid so," the middle-aged man replied. "We only discovered it by chance when analyzing Her Majesty's blood samples taken before she died. It was an insidious agent, and we just as easily could have missed it."

The doctor's clinical answer did nothing to assuage Emeline's grief-fueled fury. To know that her aunt had died far too young was one thing, but for her to have been poisoned? _Murdered? _She would wring the filthy bastard's neck and flay their family alive if she found who was responsible.

"Who?" Zero asked, the flat tone of his voice modulator hiding none of the rage he undoubtedly shared with Emeline.

"That, is not something I can answer," the doctor said after some hesitation. "If I had to hazard a guess, most likely a disgruntled former noble who desired the throne. There were many such persons who did not look kindly upon the Liberator's legacy, and striking at his sister would have been a perfect way to avenge themselves while furthering their own political ends."

"Treacherous dogs," Mountbatten muttered, this time holding a glass of his beloved bourbon while on the job. No one blamed him. "There are many nobles who would fit that bill. Emperor Lelouch may have killed many, but there were those smart enough not to openly resist and bide their time even if they hated him."

Robert held up his hand, calling for silence. "Thank you for your work, doctor. I and my family are grateful. You are dismissed for now."

The doctor bowed to the royals before leaving, offering his apologies that he'd been unable to do more. Once the doors were shut the acting Sovereign turned to his family.

"How was this allowed to happen?" Robert asked, his tone composed but his eyes like chips of golden ice. "Are there not safeguards in place to prevent this very thing?"

"Most likely one of those safeguards was bought off," C.C. replied, making Emeline clench her fist. Her family was already surrounded by enemies, the last thing they needed was for their own retainers to be against them. Her mother turned to Jeremiah. "Is there anyone in the palace that might resort to such measures? Perhaps out of desperation for money or hatred for the royal family?"

"Not that our background checks could find," Jeremiah said, before his gaze hardened. "But I'm not above using more direct methods to find a snake."

"We must be cautious," William said, surprising the others. "No doubt whoever did this would not hesitate to harm us as well, if they were willing to kill my mother. Acting rashly will only tip them off that we know."

"At least one person out there is responsible for killing her, and you're suggesting we do _nothing?_" Emeline questioned, her voice incredulous. "They ought to be flayed alive!"

"Trust me, cousin," William replied with an even voice, but Emeline could see it. He was subtly shaking with rage, and his emerald eyes blazed with a fire that only one thing would quench. "Once the culprit is found, I will take the most pleasure out of seeing them suffer for what they have done. But we can't let rage dominate our actions. Too much is at stake for that. We must be calm and calculating, striking when the time is right."

Emeline was surprised at her cousin's words, not expecting such cold reasoning. But she nodded her head in respect. Once they found those responsible, she was sure he would be the first to extract his pound of flesh.

"Indeed," her mother said, also nodding at William. "Besides, it's like the doctor said; there were many nobles who disagreed with Lelouch who managed to escape the purge. We need to be patient, as it could be any of them. Technically, even Eddy here fits the bill."

The New Englander choked on his drink, giving a scandalized glare at the former consort. "Now wait just a minute!"

C.C. waved her hand nonchalantly. "Oh hush, I'm not saying you're a suspect. Besides, even if you lost your rank like everyone else, you have personal reasons to remain loyal to the Crown. I'm just pointing out how large our pool of suspects really is, like you said."

"Regardless," Robert said, gaining everyone's attention. "We will find those responsible, and we will do it in a logical and calm manner like William said. We can vent our rage after they are caught. Which might be sooner than later."

"Oh?" Zero asked, curious what his nephew meant.

"Both a Sovereign's funeral and coronation are set to happen soon," Robert said with a small, cold smirk. "No one could refuse an invitation to such an important occasion. We don't need to look for our enemies, they'll come to us. We can set our spies to work, weed out those who know more than they let on, and find our marks. Then we will exact our revenge."

"I can draft invitations, make them as public as possible," Mountbatten said. "Even those who spoke out against the Crown, few as they were, cannot outright refuse without severely damaging their image in the eyes of the commoners. Even diminished, the monarchy's image is strong in the eyes of the people."

"Do so," Robert said with a nod, turning to Jeremiah. "Lord Gottwald, have the guards you know to be loyal and trustworthy to keep an extra eye on their compatriots. Any suspicious activity that is spotted I want on my desk. Make sure that all shipments into the palace are thoroughly inspected as well."

The two men bowed, exiting the room with a murmured 'Yes, Majesty.' Robert turned to Zero and William.

"Uncle, Cousin, I know it will be hard, but you two must publicly act as if we do not know this information. We must not tip off our enemy, otherwise they might panic and slip through our fingers."

The two nodded, William's face pained but understanding. "So long as the bastards are caught, we'll do what it takes."

"I'll do everything in my power," Robert promised, his face solemn.

"We all will," Emeline said, before moving to her cousin and enveloping him in a hug. "We won't let this stand, William. No one harms our family."

"I know," William said, returning the embrace, and after a moment they parted. The prince and his father made for the door. "Father, perhaps we should go for a ride? It might clear our heads."

"I think so too," Zero said, turning briefly before he exited. "I can hold for a time, Robert. But remember that even if I'm a patient man. I won't let this stand for long."

"You won't have too, Uncle," her brother replied.

With that the only ones left in the room were the twins and their mother. Emeline immediately made for where Mountbatten had left the bottle of bourbon and poured herself a glass. "Damn politics," she said, downing the glass in one go. "There's a reason I decided on the military academy."

"You know that's terrible for your liver, Emeline?" C.C. said, a slight scolding in her tone.

The raven-haired woman stared blankly. "Mom, I've watched you devour entire meat lover pizzas for a _snack_. If it wasn't for your Code, you would be dead of a heart attack three times over. One glass won't kill me."

Her mother pouted, knowing that logically her daughter was right but not wanting to concede when her favored food was under attack. "Pizza never caused any DUIs though…"

Emeline shook her head, long used to her mother's antics. It wasn't her place to question anyway, though she would have killed to know the thoughts in her father's head when he fell in love with the lime haired woman.

"So, what are we gonna do once those bastards show up?" Emeline asked her brother, eager to know his plan.

"Immediately, nothing," Robert said, looking out the window. "We'll have more time to gauge who our target is once the old peerage is gathered here. Once we know more, then we can decide how to proceed."

Emeline nodded, thinking it a sound idea in spite of her earlier outburst. Logically, she knew it was best to gain a solid understanding of the battlefield before charging in. That applied to politics as well as war.

"I hate to say it," she said, gaining attention from her mother and brother. "But this does create an opportunity. We always wondered how to go about restoring the aristocracy without letting the snakes back in. This will give us the chance to corral all the trash into one place and get rid of them."

All of them scowled, but C.C. nodded. "You're right. This does accelerate that part of our plans, regardless of how we feel about it personally."

Robert growled, but he also nodded his head in agreement. "I'm going to enjoy killing whichever asshole did this."

The young Sovereign turned to his mother. "Where's Sayoko?"

Suddenly there was the patter of footsteps, and Emeline jumped when she saw that the shinobi was standing right next to her. Like Robert's very words had summoned her. "Gah!"

_How the hell does she do that?!_

"I have been here, My Lord, waiting to make my report," she said, before prostrating herself. They heard sniffling. "Forgive me! This… this failure is unacceptable! I was lax and complacent, and Lady Nunnally i-is…"

"We all were, Sayoko," Robert said, his face solemn. "None of us thought that she would be poisoned, though we should have prepared for it. If you wish to atone, then help my family seek justice. What do you have to report?"

The clan head of the Shinozakis raised her head, her eyes watery. "Yes, My Lord. My spies report that the people are uncertain, yet there appears to be some hope that a new monarch will bring a change to the country's fortunes. Amongst the former nobles it is mixed, some share the sentiments of the people and see this as a chance for Britannia to resurge provided you are strong enough to rally the country. Others are ambivalent, waiting to see how the tides will flow. And there are those who are disgruntled that an heir was named last minute, having hoped that they would be able to press their own claims to the throne."

Her voice darkened as she mentioned the last group, no doubt concluding like the others that it was among this group that Nunnally's killer would be found. She would be sure to have her spies pay thorough attention to the activities of these would-be nobles. And she would be sure to brush up on her most intensive interrogation techniques for when the time came.

"Very good," Robert said. "Have a list on my desk tonight with the names sorted into each category. As I'm sure you've heard, this was likely an inside job. Comb the palace, leave no stone unturned. Anyone who you find to be suspect, bring them in for questioning. And prepare for the arrival of our _noble _guests. No doubt our killer is among them. I want no action of theirs unobserved, no paper unread, no word unheard. They will be able to hide nothing."

"As you wish, so it shall be, My Lord," Sayoko replied, eager now for the arrival of the old aristocracy. She would find redemption through the death of her lady's assassin, and she would relish it.

Emeline watched from the side, feeling a pang for the woman who had been a protector of her family since her father's childhood and part of the inspiration for her own martial path. No doubt this weighed on her as heavily as them.

"Go then, and serve us faithfully as you always have," Robert said, but just before Sayoko had exited the room he called out. "And Sayoko?"

The shinobi paused at the door, turning over her shoulder to look at her lord.

"This will _not _happen again."

The Shinozaki nodded, her face set in resolve as she left. Emeline was sure that was a command she would do everything to see faithfully executed.

Emeline turned as she heard her brother sit down in one of the plush chairs, his lower face covered by his steepled hands. It was a sign of his stress. And he hadn't even been crowned yet.

"Well done, Robert," C.C. said, her smile one of pride. She, along with others, had noticed how easily he had taken charge of the situation. "You are ready for the throne."

"I hope so, Mother," he replied, doubt that he hid from most filling his tone. "I hope so."

* * *

_Pendragon, April, 2039 A.T.B._

Catherine smiled as she walked the gardens of the Royal Palace with her infant son in her arms. Garbed in a white spring dress and sun hat, she presented a beautiful and eye-catching figure. Behind her one of the maids (Robert had told her it was one of his retainer Sayoko's agents, so they could be trusted) pushed a stroller with various items for the care of an infant and for setting up a picnic. Trailing behind the maid were two royal guards, like her men that could be trusted, their eyes scanning the grounds for any hint of an assassin. She did her best to keep them in the back of her mind, wanting to enjoy the spring air.

Her baby cooed, and Catherine's smile became just a bit wider. "It's a lovely day, yes, it is my sweet Michael. Perfect to play and have fun!"

The boy's amber eyes, so much like his father's, looked at her both in confusion and adoration, her words likely unintelligible gibberish to the infant. Still she smiled. She would do anything for her child, this sweet baby boy which she adored above all other gifts Robert had ever given her.

Her husband was busy making sure everything was in order and getting ready both for Nunnally's funeral and coronation, but he would be joining them later. Catherine did not begrudge his absence; she would have been doing everything in her power to secure justice and vengeance for her family were she in his place. Even without that, she knew what it meant to be royalty, and she knew what it meant when she married a vi Britannia.

_Such a kind and loving man, but the world would hate him simply for being born_, she thought with a frown. _What do they know? They take and take for the sins of those long gone and yet _we _are the ones in the wrong._

Catherine shook her head, banishing the dark thoughts. Now wasn't the time for that; she was going to bask in the glow of the warm spring day with her infant son.

"Perhaps here is a good spot My Lady?"

Catherine paused as she considered the maid's words, taking in the area just off the stone path. It was not as grand as the pictures she had seen from the time of Emperor Charles, there was no way such a fantastic garden could be justified in the current times, but nonetheless the small grove was beautiful. She smiled.

"Yes, this will do perfectly."

They quickly set up a picnic blanket, the guards giving amused smiles as they were roped into helping. Before long they had an array of light snacks and drinks set up, with Michael set up in a baby swing which dangled plastic stars above him to keep him occupied.

She bade the maid sit with her, knowing the guards would refuse out of principle. Catherine quickly noticed, to her amusement, that while the woman was supposedly a deadly shinobi of the Shinozaki Clan, she was clearly unused to dealing with such domestic things as a picnic.

"Try the sandwich, Inoue, it's actually quite good!"

"I couldn't possibly, My Lady, I'm on duty…"

The blonde woman pouted playfully, silently enjoying the ninja-maid's company. She was a bit stiff and formal, but Catherine could tell under her professional demeanor there was a good-natured spirit. "Perhaps you just don't like my cooking."

The maid looked vainly to the guards for assistance, but only got hidden smirks and averted eyes. Sighing, she took the offered sandwich, biting into it first with hesitation and then gusto as she realized she quite liked the taste. Catherine only smiled.

"Perhaps I might join the ladies as well?"

The guards snapped to attention, and Catherine looked over to see Jeremiah Gottwald walking towards them with a pleased twinkle in his eye. The man had been getting somewhat better the past week, but she still detected hints of the immense sadness he carried.

"It would please me immensely, Lord Gottwald," she said. "Please, help yourself."

The cyborg sat somewhat awkwardly on the picnic blanket, pouring himself a glass of water. He smiled as Michael cooed in his direction, clearly fascinated.

"I see the young one is doing well," he said as he reached out with a single finger. The infant immediately grabbed it in his hand, entranced. Jeremiah chuckled. "Strong as well. He'll make a fine prince."

Catherine observed the Guard Captain, noticing that his face seemed softer than it had on the few occasions she had seen him. Likely it came from being in the presence of his liege lord's grandson. It likely brought him comfort, knowing that against many odds the family he had sworn himself to endured.

"Yes, though I'll be satisfied so long as he grows up to be happy," she said with a smile. "Is there any news?"

"Nothing important. A few of the old nobles have begun to arrive, but aside from that everything has been quiet."

The royal nodded, before leaning closer and whispering, "Has there been any luck in finding a lead?"

Jeremiah shook his head, frowning. "None yet, My Lady, though I'm sure it won't be long. Some of the best spies in the world are working at it, and I've made sure that everything is triple-checked before entering or exiting the palace. If there is a turncoat hiding amongst us, they won't be hidden for long."

Catherine nodded, sincerely hoping that was the case. While she had not been particularly close to Nunnally, she had been kind to her, and Robert had clearly adored his aunt. Even if Catherine privately felt she had not been the best ruler for Britannia, she mourned the tragedy of her passing. She hoped whoever was responsible would soon feel the vi Britannia family's wrath.

"I will pray for your success, Lord Gottwald," she said eventually. Adopting a smile, she changed the subject. "But, enough of that for now. Please, you must try one of the sandwiches!"

Jeremiah accepted, but after a while he eventually had to return to his duties. With a small bow the cyborg walked away, giving a small wave to her baby which was returned with the frantic shaking of the infant's fist as he tried to copy the motion. He, and everyone else, smiled in amusement, and for Inoue's part she tried and failed to contain a small squeal of delight.

A while passed, and soon the young mother and son were joined by her husband, who cast off the presence of an acting ruler as soon as he sat upon the blanket. He stopped being Robert the future sovereign and became Robert the husband and father, and Catherine soaked up every moment of it she could. For she knew it would be an increasingly rare thing as time wore on. In two weeks' time her husband would no longer be entirely hers; in a way he would become wedded to the nation. She did not begrudge him that.

That was, after all, what it meant to be royalty.

* * *

_Tokyo, April, 2039 A.T.B._

A world away, another family was having a meal of their own. Though the venue was far less calm, being in the middle of a large metropolis.

The family lived in one of the nicer areas of Tokyo, being able to afford a well-furnished and spacious two-story house. It was a warm atmosphere and obviously lived in, with picture frames spaced out along the walls along with various decorations and items of personal value scattered about.

In the kitchen, the sounds and smells of cooking pervaded, and two women did their own parts in preparing breakfast. One was a Japanese girl in her late teens, her dark hair done up in a bun which allowed two bangs to escape and frame her face and onyx eyes. Her body was lithe and fit, and along with her delicate face many would have considered her beautiful. She was dressed in the female uniform of the internationally known Ashford Academy.

The other woman was older, in her late thirties. She too was lithe and fit, but whereas the younger woman was dressed in a school uniform this one was dressed in the uniform of the Black Knights, the military arm of the UFN. Her hair was done in a braid which came down to her shoulder blades, and like the other woman two bangs of fierce crimson framed her face. Unlike the younger woman, however, her features were more mixed, with her complexion being somewhat pale but not unhealthily so, and her eyes being a pair of sky-blue orbs. The shape of her face, however, pointed to some Japanese ancestry.

The two went about their daily morning ritual, and before long a western style breakfast was laid out on their table. The two gave their thanks and dug in, exchanging small talk as they ate. The news ran on the tv in the background.

"So how is school going?" the elder asked, taking a bite of sausage.

"As well as it can, I suppose," the younger answered, sipping her orange juice. "My grades are good, and I should be all set to graduate. The Student Council's also been making steady progress on planning the end of term dance. What about work?"

"…_so far, the Royal Palace has given few details…_"

"So, so," the elder woman answered. "The simulations all came back with less than stellar results. Our Knightmare tactics aren't as cutting edge as they used to be."

The girl smirked. "Surely the great Red Lotus isn't getting, dare I say it, _old_?"

She gave a faux dramatic gasp, pressing the back of her forehead as if she were about to swoon. "Whatever shall we do without our darling ace? How will wicked men and Britannians know to keep from evil deeds? Oh, it would be terrible~!"

The redheaded woman's eyebrow twitched, and she gave a half-hearted glare. As she spoke, her voice went from annoyed to sugary sweet and airy. "Oi, oi, Reiko, watch it. I'm not even forty yet. Besides, what about you? Surely all the men at Ashford have noticed you're flowering into a beautiful young woman, especially with the dance coming up. Why, even young Todoh might find himself struck speechless! Whatever shall he do, were the school's darling rose to approach him in blushing innocence and ask-"

"_Mom!_" the now named Reiko yelled, though it was ruined by her high pitch and blushing face borne of embarrassment.

"…_confirmation that an heir has been named, though no name as of yet…_"

The two paused for a moment, staring the other down, before both began to laugh at their antics. They laughed long and loud, basking in the ridiculousness and warmth of it all. For them, this was what home meant.

"But seriously," the elder woman continued, this time more seriously. "Do you have a date to the dance yet? I was only half-kidding when I mentioned him, he's a nice boy. Honorable like his father, though far more easy going."

Though it was not as bright as before, Reiko's blush returned. "I, uh, I've been putting it off for the most part. Besides, isn't the guy supposed to ask the girl?"

"…_rumors circulating of debate on whether or not to intervene in Britannia, to establish a stable government…_"

"Tch, that's what society says. But you're Kallen Kozuki's daughter," Kallen said with a grin. "And Kozukis don't give a damn about society. If you want it, go for it. But I'll still make sure to put the fear of the gods into him if you two do end up together, prestigious father be damned."

Reiko smiled, full of love and respect for her mother. "Thanks, mom."

The two continued on, chatting about anything and everything, a mother and daughter enjoying their time together. Before long they finished their meal and cleared the table, and soon both were getting ready to head out the door.

"…_intervention would be unlikely at best, but sure to succeed…_"

The two were at the door, ready to begin their day. They smiled at each other before exchanging a hug.

"Have a good day at school, Reiko. Love you."

"Kick ass at work, mom. Love you too."

The two women exited their home before turning in opposite directions. Reiko pulled out her phone and began texting her friends, having memorized the path to Ashford from her house. On jumbotrons in the city, the news channel she and her mother had on as background noise droned on, ignored by many.

"…_old nobles reportedly gathering in Pendragon to attend the ceremonies, amidst additional rumors of an assassination of the Sovereign…_"

In her peripheral vision, Reiko noticed some people glare at the mention of the Britannian capital. One man spit on the sidewalk. Britannians in the area lowered their heads and tried to be on their way. One walked her way, like her not really paying attention to what was in front of him. They kept walking, closer and closer.

"…_Representative Sumeragi has expressed regret at the Sovereign's early passing_…"

Reiko and the Britannian man collided, though it wasn't very hard. They looked to each other, and both tried to exchange apologies for not paying attention, awkward and embarrassed smiles on their faces.

"Watch where you're going, damn Brit!"

The Britannian was knocked to the ground, and behind him stood a Japanese man wearing what looked to be an expensive suit. He kicked the Britannian in the side. Most ignored the event. A few sniggered. A police officer did nothing. "Where're your manners, you could have hurt the girl!"

Reiko stared in shock, quickly attempting to intervene. "Hey, hey, we both weren't paying attention and no one got hurt, there's no reason-"

The Japanese man looked at Reiko, and she barely stopped herself from recoiling at the embers of hate smoldering in his eyes. "Don't let him fool you, miss. Britannians will take any opportunity to feel superior over somebody else, you can't let your guard down for a second. They're animals that need to be kept in their place."

Reiko hid a frown at the man's words, a familiar indignation burning inside her.

_This isn't what my mom fought for._

"Look, don't worry about it, I'll keep my eye out from now on, 'kay? You just go about your day; it looks like you have somewhere important to be."

The man hesitated, looking like he wanted to stick around just to beat the Britannian some more, before he decided otherwise. "Fine, miss, just don't let them touch you again."

With that he walked off, but not before spitting on the fallen man. Reiko quickly helped him up, attempting to give him a comforting smile, but he quickly walked off, not wanting to attract even more negative attention. He held his chest in pain as he walked away. Reiko frowned, but being unable to do anything about it she continued making her way to Ashford.

"…_giving a call for unity and peace around the world as discontent in former Britannian colonies grows_…"

_Peace, huh? _Reiko thought as she approached the front gates of Ashford, along with scores of other students. The incident from earlier stayed with her as she entered the campus. _I never heard about any peace like this lasting long._

She made her way to her homeroom, exchanging greetings with acquaintances and friends. Taking her seat Reiko noticed the news as it was being turned off by the teacher. She had just enough time to hear it before being met with a blank screen.

"…_regardless, the coronation of the new Sovereign is set to take place in two weeks. Now, onto the stock market report…_"

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and/or reviewed. Your comments and encouragement were both helpful and insightful.

I'm not used to updating something this fast. Perhaps it has something to do with this being a passion project more than anything. Who knows?

We see that Nunnally's death was not a natural one, and the vi Britannia family is understandably not happy. While they'll be sure to milk the opportunity it presents for all that it's worth, rest assured that when the time comes they will make their displeasure known. Meanwhile, Catherine takes a moment to enjoy time with her family before the plunge into politics and royal responsibility. I also found a surprising amount of enjoyment in the scene with Kallen and Reiko. Those two wrote themselves, and I'm quite happy with how they turned out. I hope you guys found them just as enjoyable to read.

Until next time, and happy reading!


	3. Chapter 3 The Way of Loyalty

Chapter Two: The Way of Loyalty

Preparations for the coronation of the new Sovereign proceeded apace. Even with the diminished state of the royal house, it was still expected to be a grand affair. Ceremonial garb and ancient imperial rites were inspected and rehearsed, old nobles gathered in the capital in numbers not seen since the reign of Charles zi Britannia, and the populace eagerly awaited the identity of the one who would be their ruler. It was not just an old, highborn ceremony that was being enacted, but a spectacle meant to encapsulate and entrance the nation. For a brief moment, the average Britannian would be able to forget their woes and sing with joy the hymns and oaths of their forefathers.

But behind the glamour and courtly pomp, a different spectacle was being played out. Even if the court made no mention of her assassination, the family of Nunnally vi Britannia had set their most trusted agents on a task with which they were given _carte blanche: _find the identities of those responsible. Collect any and all information on their assets and loved ones. Infiltrate their staffs. Eliminate them.

As more and more of the aristocracy arrived in Pendragon, this task became more and more simple. The shinobi of the Shinozaki clan were thorough and swift, narrowing down the list of suspects quickly with their skills and placing them under close watch. The royal guards known to be loyal kept their own tabs on their comrades, watching with suspicion those who hinted at misplaced loyalties. No item entered or left the palace without the royal guard having inspected it, and no communication was sent in or out before the Shinozakis had secretly perused it at their leisure. Across the principality, agents were sent to the homes of those who remained suspect, to gather further information and perform early reconnaissance.

At the head of these efforts were Sayoko Shinozaki, an unknown agent of the Crown and a figure who would become vital to Britannia's later intelligence initiatives, and Jeremiah Gottwald, the legendary Orange Knight. One was the head of one of the last surviving shinobi clans of the old Japan, and the other was a Britannian noble who had fought across the globe to conquer in the emperor's name. At first glance both seemed completely different individuals.

But at their core, both of them held one virtue above all others. It defined their lives, their relationships, and their deeds.

Sayoko Shinozaki and Jeremiah Gottwald were both, to their dying breaths, loyal.

* * *

_Pendragon, April 22nd, 2039 A.T.B._

One facet of the royal funeral and coronation that went unnoticed by the masses were the logistics of hosting the nobles that arrived in Pendragon daily. Since all of them had lost their titles and few had been so lucky as to earn a posting in the post-Purge administration, they no longer had the grand palaces and mansions within Pendragon to reside in on a visit to the capital. It was a cause of some resentment that compensation had not been offered by the Crown after the ascension of Nunnally, but one that was mollified with the return of ancestral lands in their home provinces that had been confiscated by the Liberator.

In the meantime, with the aforementioned lack of accommodations, the Imperial Palace itself had been opened to the old aristocracy as a temporary residence for the duration of the events. More than large enough to handle the sudden influx of guests, it was nonetheless a busy time for the staff. Maids and butlers were rarely not busy with some task, the kitchens were a flurry of constant activity to feed the new mouths, and security worked around the clock to protect (observe) the nobles. Even without their former titles, the old aristocracy was a powerful bloc in Britannian society, able to command much power and resources in their respective home regions. The Crown knew well that they could not carelessly be offended or ignored, hence the extra efforts at accommodation.

In this atmosphere of busybodies and constant work, it was easy for new staff members to appear and disappear without much explanation. The staff were busy, all hands on deck were needed, who cared if that one maid was at a section of the palace they normally weren't? They were doing something, and that was what was important.

The perfect environment for a shinobi to practice their craft.

"I swear, that one baron and his love for liquor…" one of the maids in a washroom said, folding laundry with several others. "If he spills one more glass on the floor I'll be fit to scream!"

"At least he's just got a thing for booze, the count I've been servicing is so creepy. He doesn't even try to hide it when he stares…"

Amongst the servants one of them, a slender woman appearing to have blonde hair and brown eyes, looked over in sympathy. "Do you need me to take your shift again? I can put up with dealing with him for a few hours, and the guards are always just a shout away."

"No, no, it's fine," the woman who had complained about the count replied. "I'll grin and bear it, it's only for a few days. And like you said, if he tries anything the guards'll give him what for."

It was interesting, how much the culture of the serving staff had changed in Britannia over the past two decades. Before the reign of Lelouch, servants were lucky if they had a decent master, and many had heard the horror stories of a lord who was cruel or unscrupulous. It was only with the reign of the Liberator that servants had a way to stand up to an unjust master, what with the abolishment of noble privilege and the establishment of special courts to oversee cases of mistreatment against commoners throughout the empire. It was one of the many reasons for the Britannian people's continued devotion to Lelouch, and this policy's continuation by his sister had engendered her similar good will.

If only that good will had been enough to spare her life.

"You're always trying to be so helpful, Jane," one of the other maids said, her green eyes admiring. "I don't know how you always have so much energy, you're all over the place."

'Jane' just smiled slightly, her face giving nothing away. "There's no secret to it, really. I just make sure to get my eight hours of sleep in, and _maybe _sneak in a mug of coffee or five."

The maids giggled, but quickly hushed when one of the chief butlers came into the room. He briefly looked over the servants to ensure they were working diligently before turning to Jane.

"Ms. Aberdale, you're needed in the East Wing. There's a small load of laundry that needs tending too."

The mood changed instantly. Some of the maids murmured, a familiar discontent rising in them. It was always Jane that was dragged to some random mess far off on the other side of the palace, and to them it seemed rightly unfair that she be dragged away from her work when there were plenty of servants on that side who could do it themselves. They had tried to voice their complaints a few times, but she always dissuaded them with a smile and assuring words.

"_It's my duty to serve, regardless of where that service is needed. Don't worry about me."_

Her acceptance of the situation with no complaint only caused their admiration of their fellow servant to rise. She could be trusted, she was an ideal servant (even if they worried about her performing so much work), and in the eyes of many of her 'fellow' staff she was a friend.

It was a masterful deception, really.

Without word, 'Jane' followed the butler out of the room and across the palace, headed towards the East Wing. The only part of the butler's request that was true was their destination, not that he knew that. While her agents among the staff were many, not all of them were spies of the Crown.

Eventually they reached the room that needed tending to, and the butler left with a slightly apologetic look. He too was confused about why 'Ms. Aberdale' specifically had to complete the task, but he knew it was best to just get on with it and see that things were done as efficiently as possible.

The maid entered the room, and after a few glances to insure no one was watching she made her way to the far wall by the bed, which had a pile of dirty laundry on it for good measure. She snorted; that task she most certainly would not be tending to. Her work was of a far more… intensive nature.

With a push of a hidden button the wall slid open, and in an instant the maid was in a hall separate from the network of servants' passages. Once used by the OSI, they now served different masters. Different members of the palace staff made use of these corridors, carrying out their own work. One such person stood in the hall, and when the maid closed the door, he quickly dropped to one knee.

"Sayoko-sama, I bring news."

Sayoko removed her wig and contacts, revealing the black hair and onyx eyes of the Shinozaki clan head. Said eyes were no longer the kind orbs which encouraged the maids, but hard as coal and sharp as a kunai.

"Report, Sparrow," she said, her voice flat.

"This was found in a servant's quarters," he said, holding out a folded piece of paper to his lady. She took it and found it to be a letter. "It appears one of our marks has gotten sloppy."

Sayoko quickly unfolded and read the letter, her face remaining blank as she scanned the contents. When she was finished, her expression had not changed save for her eyes. Where before there had been hard coal there now raged a cold fire, eager to devour.

"I assume this servant has been given special accommodations?" she said finally, her voice still flat.

"Yes, Sayoko-sama," the shinobi said, his eyes not leaving the floor. "Captain Gottwald awaits your presence, and they have already been replaced with a double to avoid suspicion."

"Very good," she said, already turning on her heel. "There is a load of laundry outside, see that it's tended too. We can't have my perfect record be marred, after all."

With purposeful steps the shinobi made her way to the special holding cells that had also once been used by the OSI, the cold fire never leaving her eyes. Within she was ecstatic, jumping for joy and fit to laugh madly.

_Justice, _she thought to herself, allowing the tiniest of smiles to cross her face. _My lady will soon be avenged._

Oh, how she wished to ply her darker crafts upon this miserable wretch, to make them scream in agony and repentance for their crimes. Sayoko's works would carve damnation and shame onto their bodies and into their souls. But not yet.

No, first she had to find out whom this worm served, and orchestrate their downfall as well. Only then would she allow her private desires to be sated.

_If Jeremiah hasn't already had some fun with them first, _she thought, her smile just a bit wider. At the thought of the cyborg, the faintest blush crossed her cheeks. _Perhaps I'll make his favorite after this is done to make up for being so busy._

She pressed on, banishing idle thoughts from her mind. Her only focus was on getting the information she needed, and for that nothing would distract her. After a series of turns and descents down flights of stairs, she reached the detention block used to hold prisoners caught within the palace. They had been unused during Nunnally's reign, the woman being averse the idea of extrajudicial holding cells, but Robert had secretly ordered them to once again be put to use. That wasn't to say that he had ordered a mass incarceration of any suspicious persons, but they would make a fine area to hold any suspects without alerting their puppet masters.

With a swift gait and a steady smile she entered the cell block, coming to stand next to the one that occupied one Jeremiah Gottwald's attention. He gave no outward expression of hostility save for his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, like hers burning with the ardent fires of righteous vengeance. She stepped beside him without a word.

On the other side of the bullet-proof glass she could see a woman wearing the uniform of a palace maid. She sat dejectedly, blonde hair falling around her head and hiding her face. No bonds were placed upon her, not that they were needed. Between the Knight of Orange and the Shinozaki clan head, not to mention the three shinobi which kept watch on the cell block at all times, this area was more than secure.

"She hasn't said anything concrete as of yet," Jeremiah said without preamble, though she noticed the softening of his eyes when he looked at her. "She hasn't denied the accusations made against her either. If anything, she seems resigned but doesn't want to say what everyone is thinking out loud."

"Most prisoners believe they can hold out if they have a small amount of faith," Sayoko replied, not worried about keeping her voice down. The maid wouldn't hear their conversation unless they desired it. "The trick is that they prepare themselves for a harsh and brutal interrogation. They try to make themselves hard and unbreakable, like steel."

"But you don't intend to go that route, do you?" Jeremiah said, a knowing look in his eye.

"No," she drawled, her smile far too pleasant. "Why break steel when you can wither it away with rust?"

With that she opened the door to the cell, her footsteps hardly audible and her expression pleasantly placid. Like a proper maid.

* * *

Sayoko stood before Robert in one of the many private lounges scattered throughout the palace. It was early morning, and even many of the servants had yet to wake. Sayoko herself had gotten maybe two hours of sleep after the interrogation, which had lasted well past midnight. She stood at attention alongside Jeremiah, not bothered in the least by something as trivial as fatigue.

For his part Robert held the report she had made, facing towards the ceiling-to-floor window which dominated the far wall. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and it framed his rather tall body clad in a dark blue suit. The Sovereign-to-be hardly moved as he read through the papers in his hands, and neither of his retainers so much as twitched as they waited for him to finish. They served at his leisure, and if he wished for time to contemplate in silence before dismissing them then they might as well enjoy the quiet.

Finally he turned from the window to face them, his amber eyes glinting in the low light. Sayoko privately thought those eyes were beautiful; they were bright and vibrant with the spark of the young man's intelligence and ambition. She stood slightly straighter at her lord's attention, awaiting his words.

"Excellent work finding this so quickly," he said, allowing a smile of approval to cross his face. "I will admit, I was not expecting results this soon. But it is foolish to question unexpected boons."

"We are unworthy of your praise," Sayoko said, bowing her head slightly. "I only regret I was unable to extract a name; whomever this woman was working for is cautious."

"Even so, we have secured suitable leads," Robert said, placing the report on a coffee table. He once again turned to the window to watch the sunrise. "I understand that not all of the correspondence between this woman and her benefactor were destroyed before she was found out. Handwriting can be compared, money can be traced, and even the style of writing can be analyzed for patterns and indications of personality. It is only a matter of time now."

Sayoko and Jeremiah nodded in agreement. The clock was certainly ticking in their favor now that they had this lead to follow.

"I've also come to the conclusion that there was no treachery from within the Royal Guard," Jeremiah said, glancing at his own report laying next to Sayoko's. "If there is anything that can be held against them for the Sovereign's death, it is that they were not more vigilant against threats such as this. I've already impressed upon them that such lapses won't be tolerated in the future, and I've also taken the liberty of having some of the Shinozaki agents train them in counter-espionage tactics."

"Very good," Robert said. "Your initiative does you credit, Jeremiah. And you, Sayoko. While the threat is not yet past, you have both helped to put my mind at ease. My only request is that you continue to show such results. Thank you."

The two retainers bowed before exiting the room. As the door closed behind them they continued down the hall.

"Honestly, Jerry," Sayoko said, her smile teasing. "Forcing the stepchildren into the same room together and not letting me know until the last minute? If I didn't know better, I'd say you thought it was better to ask forgiveness instead of permission."

"It wasn't my intent to keep you in the dark," Jeremiah said, scratching his head. "I've been so busy between my investigations and ensuring that security is up to par for the ceremonies that it honestly slipped my mind to let you know."

"I know," Sayoko said, keeping her smile. "The Shinozakis live to serve the vi Britannias. If it improves that service, then I will welcome it. And besides, you have just as much pull within the clan as I. You _are _my consort after all."

"All the same, you're the clan head. I'll make sure to inform you properly next time," Jeremiah said as they stopped at an intersection. "I need to make my rounds, see that the nobles aren't too comfortable. See you tonight?"

"Of course," Sayoko said, leaning up to give Jeremiah a small kiss. "I'll let you know if I find anything in the meantime. We will have our vengeance soon, my love."

Jeremiah nodded, grinning fiercely as he turned to depart. Sayoko watched him go for a moment before walking off to see to her own tasks.

* * *

_Pendragon, April 24__th__, 2039 A.T.B._

A small banquet was being hosted for the nobles that had arrived, to tide them over while the ceremonies were still being prepared. There were still a few days until the funeral, and even more until the coronation ceremony. In that time, the guests needed to be entertained and distracted. Especially from the fact that the heir had yet to show themselves. Jeremiah did not envy Zero and William, who were almost constantly being pestered for any information regarding the future of the Crown. After they were offered condolences for the passing of the Sovereign, of course. The cyborg subtly made note of the nobles who had not immediately approached the prince-consort, taking special notice of those who glared in his direction.

While such was not an indicator of suspicion on its own (quite a few Britannians on all levels of society were scandalized when they learned the Sovereign had married Lelouch the Liberator's executioner) Jeremiah knew that nothing could be left to chance with the aristocracy. While he did not know Robert and Emeline's plans for them, he did know that they intended to clean house before making use of the nobles. If he could be of even a little assistance, Jeremiah would give every ounce of his effort.

"Fancy seeing you here, Orange Boy!" a jovial voice called out, and Jeremiah twitched as he turned to address the source. "It's been ages since I saw you last!"

"We met not even a month ago, Lord Weinberg," Jeremiah said more evenly. "I recall you saying the exact same thing on that occasion as well, and at the meeting before that."

"Ah, I suppose so. I do lose track of the time so easily these days," Gino Weinberg said, grinning sheepishly. He had aged well since the days of Zero's insurrection, having only grown more impressive in his stature while retaining his energetic disposition. His blue eyes still shone like the sky, and his blonde hair was still done in that wild style he preferred. These days he wore a suit (for this occasion he was dressed in the mourning black like everyone else) instead of a uniform of a Knight of the Round. "Can't be helped when I have nothing to do aside from look after the estate."

"True enough, though you said that at our last meeting as well," Jeremiah said, before giving a shallow bow to the blonde man's companion. "Lady Weinberg, it is a pleasure as always."

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Gottwald." Setsuko Weinberg said as she gave a curtsey. Unlike her husband, the Lady Weinberg was far more composed and formal. Normally dressed in one of her beloved kimonos, she had opted for a western dress out of respect for her hosts and the fact that some of the nobles would not take so kindly to the additional reminder of her Japanese heritage. Jeremiah found her to be one of the most pleasant ladies of the aristocracy to talk to, owing to her down-to-earth attitude. While quite a few circles found her marriage to Gino Weinberg to be scandalous and unfathomable, Jeremiah thought it was a good match. Even if she was not of noble blood herself, having been one of the household servants of the previous Lord Weinberg when Gino met her, Setsuko kept her husband on a steady course and reined him in when necessary. She provided a respectable and firm compass for the House Weinberg. More than could be said for some of the noble ladies that to this day snubbed her.

"Oh, and is that young Frederick?" Jeremiah asked, noticing the couple's son. "I see the academy is treating you well."

Standing slightly behind and between his parents was the heir of the House Weinberg, Frederick Weinberg. He had largely inherited his mother's features and calm personality, but he did possess his father's impressive build. Dressed in the parade uniform of an academy cadet, the young man cut a dashing figure. The cyborg suspected quite a few women were smitten with him, though he knew the young man was too chivalrous to take advantage of that.

"I started last Fall, Lord Gottwald," Frederick said, snapping off a crisp salute which Jeremiah waved off with some amusement. "Your recommendation was extremely helpful. My teachers say I might be cut out as an infantry officer."

"Were these better days, you would cut a fine figure as a knightmare pilot," Jeremiah said ruefully. "Regardless, I'm certain you'll do your family and the Crown proud."

"He already does as far as his family is concerned," Gino said, beaming at his son. He turned back to Jeremiah. "So, does this shindig have any beer? I'm going to need at least two if I have to schmooze."

"Dear, please don't refer to a royal banquet as a _shindig,_" Setsuko said with exasperation. "Honestly, one would think you used to be the common servant and not the other way around. I saw some servers with wine earlier."

"Well we'd better track one down then! Come on Freddy, your last test results have earned you a drink with your old man!" Gino said, his words coming out faster than most would have been able to process as he dragged his son by the arm. Said son shared his mother's fond exasperation as he was dragged along.

"I'd better make sure he doesn't traumatize someone," Lady Weinberg said, quickly curtsying to Jeremiah. "Again, it was a pleasure, Lord Gottwald. You have my family's thanks for the assistance given to our son. Until we meet again."

And with that Jeremiah was once again alone. Shaking his head at the antics of the former Knight of Three, Jeremiah resumed his vigil of the hall. Little had changed. Off to the side he could see the former Duke of California chatting with the Count of Niagra, and if his enhanced hearing was right the Baron of Atlanta was telling a particularly dirty joke to his son, who laughed loudly. It was almost enough to take him back to the days of his youth, when he was but a young guardsman fresh out of the academy. Nobles mingled and conversed, some already establishing dialogues and deals like the old days when they'd still officially held power.

_And one or more of them might be Lady Nunnally's killer, _Jeremiah thought with a frown. He had yet to year any hushed conversations indicating that one of the people in this room might be suspect, but he doubted the culprits were stupid enough to talk about it here of all places. No, if they were going to discuss it in the palace it would be away from watchful eyes and ears. Though few such places in the palace existed now what with the Shinozakis constantly maintaining a vigil for any hint of treachery.

The patter of hurried footsteps sounded behind him, and Jeremiah turned to see a guardsman approaching. Noticing the man's tense posture, he met him halfway. "What is it?"

"Lord Gottwald," the guard said, not even pausing to salute. "You need to come with me. We've found something in the loading area."

Jeremiah nodded, not bothering with questions as he let the guardsman lead him out from the ballroom (after informing the sergeant-at-arms of where he was going) towards where this find had been made. They quickly made their way to their destination, the sight of the Captain of the Guard in a hurry more than enough to convince people to make way. Within minutes, Jeremiah was greeted with the sight of multiple guardsmen inspecting the boxes that had been in the process of being unloaded from a food truck. He noted the terrified driver being held at gunpoint in a chair off to the side.

"We only found it by chance, My Lord," the guardsman said as he led Jeremiah over to one box in particular. Another was standing over it, taking inventory. "We've found at least five others like this one."

Jeremiah wasted no time in looking into the box, and was rewarded with the sight of multiple assault rifles, the old Grumman R-15s that were used by the much-reduced Provincial Guards these days. He picked one up and inspected it, and from a glance at the serial number he could tell it had come from one of the armories in Pennsylvania.

_The former Duke of Pennsylvania was one of the first to arrive, _he mused as he returned the rifle to its place, turning to look at the truck driver. _And if my memory serves, he is distantly related to the Imperial family through his maternal grandmother._

Even if the origin of the weapons didn't mean that the Duke was the one behind this, their presence still had disturbing implications. The fact that they had been shipped directly to the palace suggested that the conspirators still had men on the inside. Men who they trusted to fight when the time came. This find only proved that time was short.

_But I _know _that the Guards are loyal. Have I missed something?_

"You there!" he bellowed as he marched up to where the truck driver was being kept. The man flinched at his voice, and his terror only seemed to grow the closer Jeremiah approached. "What do you know of this?"

"I swear, m'lord, I didn't have an inkling!" he half-sobbed, throwing himself from the char to Jeremiah's feet. "I'm j-just a truck driver, I don't k-k-know what's going on!"

"Surely you know who put these boxes in the truck," Jeremiah growled, heaving the man up by his collar and looking him in the eye. "Where was this truck loaded? Who handled it?"

"We have the manifest here, My Lord," a guardsman spoke up, and Jeremiah was quick to drop the man back into his chair in exchange for the manifest. Ignoring the driver's sobbing, he looked over the information. Before long he had found where the truck had been loaded, and more importantly who that warehouse belonged to.

"Sergeant," he called out, said guard snapping to attention at his rank. "Have all of the weapons here catalogued, I want every bullet accounted for. Once you're done, find a way to move it all to the palace armory discreetly. Make sure you keep this quiet."

"Yes, My Lord!" the sergeant said, before pausing. "And the driver?"

Jeremiah looked back at the still sobbing man, briefly curling his lip in disgust at the man's lack of spine. Though, he supposed as a civilian the man wasn't exactly prepared for these sorts of situations. "We'll put him in the special area for now, let the Shinozakis have a crack at him. Though, do inform them to not be _too _harsh. He might be innocent in this matter after all."

"As you wish, My Lord," the sergeant said with another salute. Jeremiah handed him the manifest and made to leave the loading area. Before he exited, though, he paused. "Oh, and sergeant? Make sure your men inspect their combat gear after this is done. It might be time to look at the engagement plans early this month."

With that he walked out, the guardsmen in the room becoming grim at his words. The driver looked at his watchers, confused. "W-what does he mean by that?"

One of them grinned cheerfully, his gun not moving a millimeter from where it was pointed at the driver's chest. "Count yourself lucky mate, you might witness the first attack on the palace in generations. You're gonna be part of history!"

* * *

_Atlanta, April 25__th__, 2039 A.T.B._

The city of Atlanta had long been a hub of the Southeast. First as an industrial hub and now as a major commercial center, the city served as a focal point for business within the former Duchy of Georgia and beyond. Even in these hard times, businessmen gathered in the city to make deals and expand their horizons.

The cities past a major hub of business meant that the suburbs were much desired by said businessmen and former nobles who wished to make their way here. It was not uncommon to find gated communities open to those who could afford them, each house offering more than enough comfort. These neighborhoods were not quite as lived in as they had once been, but they still existed. Many houses had fallen into neglect from lack of owners, and squatters and ne'er-do-wells had found their own uses for them.

A true sign of status and wealth, however, was if one could claim to live in one of the area's famed plantation homes. Rarely owned by someone outside of the aristocracy, even today, these estates were the dream of everyone who tried to make their way in Atlanta. Even if such a dream was beyond reach for many, those that could claim to live in one were considered at the pinnacle of success and meant to be emulated.

There was one home in particular. Nestled away from the rest amongst bountiful forests, it was one of the only buildings in the area. Once the home of the Duke of Georgia before he had been killed in the purges, it now hosted the dead man's nephew since he had died childless. It was a typical example of a Southern plantation home, the only difference being that it was supremely ostentatious when compared to the rest. The neo-classical columns were embroidered with rococo designs and the windows and doors were all gilded. Finely trimmed hedges filled with roses lined the lawn, and if one looked, they circled around the house towards the back where a garden was most likely kept. A single paved path led up to the estate from the gate, which was under guard. Much like the gate, guardsmen patrolled the grounds, watchful for any intruders. The entire area was surrounded by a ring of trees, cut down so that for ten yards past the hedges there was no cover for any would-be assailants to hide behind.

Most assailants, however, weren't members of the Shinozaki Clan.

She had been observing the estate for five days now. She had noted the patrol patterns long ago, and had made every effort to discover the routine of the estate. It had been painfully easy. The head of the estate, who would have been Duke if not for the aristocracy's abolishment, liked to go riding in his woods every single day at seven o'clock sharp. The lady of the estate took her tea, Darjeeling, in the Western parlor at ten o'clock without fail. She preferred it with milk. The daughter usually joined her mother, taking her tea, Earl Grey, with sugar. The daughter would immediately run off after tea to ostensibly practice her riding with the assistance of one of the servants. They were actually using it as cover for their relationship, which would likely see the servant beaten and cast out if they were discovered.

The family usually enjoyed a light lunch around one o'clock before the father would sit in his study for a few hours. The mother would walk the gardens, gossiping with one of her acquaintances if she could. The daughter would once again go to her beau to fantasize about running away together. At seven thirty they would sit down for dinner, treating any guests they might have over that day. It was not unusual for the table to be loaded down with finely cooked meats and vegetables alongside delicate sweets and cakes. The family did well for themselves, owing to the head of the estate's ownership of multiple shipping businesses in the duchy. There were quite a few Britannians who would count themselves lucky to have even one of those platters grace their table. She'd made sure to have one of her fellows look into these businesses to see if any evidence of treachery might be found there. So far, they had found nothing, but they had yet to finish the search.

For her part, the shinobi known as Kusanagi had resolved that it was time to investigate the estate more thoroughly, especially the study. Most likely, whatever she wanted would be found there.

She was fortunate; the family had departed for Pendragon earlier this day, taking quite a few servants and guardsmen with them. While there were certainly enough left behind to adequately look after the home, the lack of additional eyes and the cover of darkness would make her task easy.

With that in mind, it was time to get started.

Taking a breath, she dashed out from the tree line towards the hedges. The pattern of patrols on this side of the estate was the weakest, but not out of total neglect seeing as there wasn't a single ground level entrance in this particular area. Nonetheless, she had resolved to enter here. Swift and silent as a wraith a lithe figure covered in black dove over the hedge, tucking in her legs and rolling once before coming up at the wall of the home. She looked left and right, keeping track of the seconds before a guard came around the corner.

Eight seconds.

With fluid movements she withdrew a grapple hook attached to a rope. Making a few calculations, she quickly found her angle and tossed the hook. It sailed through the air before landing and catching on the edge of the roof-top railing. The guards didn't cover the roof, so there was no risk of it being found. Tugging to make sure it was secure, Kusanagi quickly made her way up the wall. Reaching the second floor, she tried the window and found it to be unlocked. She slid inside, pulling up the rope and cutting it before stowing the loose length. As she closed the window softly, a guard walked around the corner, his flashlight shining.

The study was on the second floor of the Western side of the estate. She was on the North side. She had entered through a window lining the outer hallway. With what little light there was she could make out a few busts and paintings lining the hall. Several doors lined the wall to either side of her. She quickly turned and made her way to the West side, creeping silently and wary of any wondering servants.

There were few up at the late hour, but those that were she avoided. Were this a typical spy thriller, there would have been a close call where she was only saved from being exposed by a convenient distraction. As it was, she never once risked detection. There were a few whispered conversations that her instincts begged her to listen in on, but she pressed ahead. Silence and darkness were her allies, and she knew how to use them well. Before long, she was standing outside of the door to the study.

She tried the handle, but this time it was locked. Frowning, she quickly pulled out a lock pick and set to work. It was a simple matter to pick the lock, and in a flash, she was inside the study and had shut the door behind her. Not waiting, she made her way to the desk to begin her search. There were large oaken bookshelves going from floor to ceiling on either side, but she ignored them. They wouldn't hold what she sought.

She rifled through the drawers first, hoping to find any papers or a journal. While there a few interesting finds, none of them were what she needed, so she quickly turned to the computer. Powering it on, she saw that it required a password. Kusanagi pulled out a flash drive and plugged it in, waiting for the device to do its work. She didn't need to wait long.

With the computer opened, she quickly began looking for documents and emails. Anything that might point her in the right direction of her mark. What Kusanagi found, however, was far more than a simple lead.

_Jackpot, as the Britannians say_, she thought to herself. Not only had she found a lead, but a full blown list of names, including several very prominent former nobles with some relation to the Imperial Family. Better yet, the head of the estate had been so careless as to leave notes of various plans and contingencies for the conspiracy, including the very poison used to kill the Sovereign and a plan to sell the others out to the government if he deemed it necessary. It was a foolish move on the man's part to leave all of this here, but his foolishness was her masters' gain. Quickly, she began copying the documents onto a separate thumb drive.

While the files downloaded, she took in more of the study, particularly the portrait on the wall opposite the desk detailing the current head of the estate in ducal finery. She snorted at the pretension of the man. Before long the only finery he would know would be the rags he wore to his execution. He did have good taste in books, if nothing else. She spied a finely bound copy of _War and Peace_ alongside a worn copy of _Ivanhoe_. There were multiple histories and biographies of great men on the shelves, but she ignored them in favor of tossing a kunai while she waited. Through the windows behind the desk, the night sky was dark and nearly starless.

Eventually, the download finished. Removing the flash drive and tucking it away in one of her pouches, the shinobi powered down the computer and made for the door. She froze when she heard a key turning in the lock, and saw the handle beginning to turn. The door opened, and in walked a maid with a feather duster. She looked around before deciding to start with one of the bookshelves.

From behind the door, Kusanagi calmed her racing heart before she made sure that the maid was focused on her task before slipping out from the room. Her footfalls were a whisper. It was fortunate that the maid hadn't bothered shutting the door behind her. Deciding that one close call was enough for the night she swiftly retraced her steps, making sure to be especially vigilant for any night owls. Eventually, she made it back to the same window she had entered through. Softly opening the window, she once again drew out the rope she had used to scale the wall. Reaching out, she tied it in a knot with the length still hanging from the grappling hook. She waited for a guard to pass below, and once they had turned the corner, she made her way back down. Tugging swiftly, the hook came free and plunged to the ground. Tucking the rope and hook away she swiftly dove once again over the hedge and sprinted for the tree line. As she hid behind a tree, she saw a guard's flashlight peer into the woods. She sat still, not daring to breathe, but before long the light moved off as the guard continued his rounds. With an exhale of relief, she made her way to the forest, eventually returning to her camp.

For the shinobi known as Kusanagi, it was another job finished.

* * *

Author's Note: Afternoon everyone, I hope you're all doing alright during this pandemic. I pray it is over swiftly. And that the Federal government gets its head out of its ass.

But enough of that. This chapter was more a matter of necessity; I don't prefer writing subterfuge and spy work myself, but needs must. Though, I will never say no to writing the best girl and best boy of Code Geass, Sayoko Shinozaki and Jeremiah Loyalty Gottwald.

Drawing up the Britannian aristocracy has been... interesting. It's strange since they're in this limbo; on the one hand their official power is gone, but they still have their own resources to fall back upon. The closest comparison I can think of are the French emigres under Napoleonic France and the Bourbon restoration. Though unlike the emigres, these nobles still have a bit of teeth, if not brains.

Also, I've decided to start keeping track of the dates which each scene takes place in. If there is no date attached to a scene, assume it takes place in the same day as the previous scene.

A reviewer expressed concern that this story was going to focus heavily on warfare and conflict. It most certainly will, but it will also focus on the build up to that conflict and how the major players tread the path to get there. Half the fun of writing a war story is when you write the build up to the war itself; there's a thrilling air of uncertainty as everyone tries to figure out who's who before the shooting starts. There's a reason European diplomacy in the 1900s and 1910s is studied almost as much as WWI itself.


	4. Chapter 4 Britannia, Your Sovereign

Chapter Three: Britannia, Your Sovereign

After weeks of preparation, the promised day had arrived. Around Britannia and the world, screens large and small were tuned in to the broadcast of the coronation ceremony. For some, it was out of patriotism and civic duty. For others, morbid curiosity. And for a few, entertainment and desire to see a spectacle. Regardless of their motives, millions would watch as the next Sovereign of Britannia was crowned.

But, as with all great reigns, the story of Robert's rule began with a funeral.

* * *

_Pendragon, Britannia, May 3__rd__, 2039 A.T.B._

It hardly seemed real to him.

Suzaku watched, mute, as his wife's coffin was finally lowered into the ground. For the past three hours he and his family had endured this ritual to mark the passing of Nunnally vi Britannia. Not just them, but the aristocracy had attended as well, along with various journalists and foreign dignitaries. The latter was chiefly represented by Britannia's former colonies, though he did spy the ambassadors from Russia and the E.U. amongst the crowd. A few heartfelt eulogies had been given, with his own being the capstone. The grief that he had kept at bay when dealing with those not of family was finally allowed to slip in public view, and he had to stop himself several times during his speech to regain his composure. He did not know it, but the weight of his grief had deeply moved many in the Britannian populace (the funeral had been broadcast live, and the masses were watching with rapt attention. Nunnally _was _the sister of the Liberator, after all).

It would have been cold comfort to the man known as Zero, but in that moment more than a few Britannians were finally convinced that he was firmly in their camp. Even if they couldn't be seen, everyone knew his tears were borne of genuine heartbreak.

Robert, along with his immediate family were also there, if incognito. Many wondered at the strange guests who sat at spots normally reserved for the close family of the Sovereign, but none were given the opportunity to act on their curiosity. As with any royal ceremony, the burial of a monarch was conducted with great gravitas and solemnity. It served as a suitable distraction. Besides, the masses would receive their answer to the identities of the strangers soon enough.

Eventually, the ceremonies came to a conclusion, and the cameras were cut and everything packed away. The crowd began to file away, and before long very few remained. One of them was Suzaku, with his family standing a way behind him as he knelt in front of his wife's grave. As per her wishes, she had been buried next to her siblings, wishing to be with them in death as she had been unable to in life. Next to her tombstone were those of three others, the siblings she had been closest to.

_Schneizel el Britannia, 1990-2022. Clever Man, Courageous Brother._

_Euphemia li Britannia, 2000-2017. Kind Soul, Missed Sister._

_Lelouch vi Britannia, 1999-2018. Hero and Liberator, Beloved Brother._

Suzaku flinched at each name. All of them, hated by the world for their blood. All of them, gone because of his failure. Failure as a keeper of peace, as a knight, and as a friend. How different would the world be, if they were still alive? If he could trade his life for even one of theirs, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Schneizel, who had died shielding Nunnally from the blast of a bomb while they were on a state visit to Tokyo. The purpose of it had been to renegotiate the terms of the U.F.N.'s demands for restitution against Britannia. If anyone could have fought that battle and won it with words, it would have been Schneizel. Instead, he had given his life to save one of his last remaining siblings. Suzaku had not thought the man had it in him, considering his ruthlessness and cold calculus of a mind. But even the coldest of individuals could still be driven to act by love.

Euphemia, who had lost her life in the tragedy of the S.A.Z. Even all these years later, her death still caused him pain. Part of him had never stopped loving her, even when he had begun his relationship with Nunnally. He firmly believed that had things worked out differently on that day, all of them would still be alive. Knowing what he did now, he wished he could have done something to save her. Her, and Lelouch, whose spiral had begun on that darkest of days.

Lelouch, who had been killed by Suzaku himself as they had planned. Their desire had been to create a new world, one driven by peace and the desire for mankind to be better. What fools they had been. Mankind did not want to be better; it was too consumed in old hates and hurts. He reached up and stroked the former emperor's tombstone, the regret weighing him down like a cement block. Lelouch was his greatest failure, more so than even Euphemia. When Lelouch had needed him most, he had abandoned him, too blinded by the rage and grief he felt over Euphie's death. It was only a few years after the Zero Requiem that he had learned the truth of what had happened. He cursed himself.

He looked to Nunnally's tombstone.

_Nunnally vi Britannia, 2001-2039. Loving Wife and Mother, Beloved sister._

"I'm sorry," he said, tracing the letters with tender care. "I've failed you too. I was supposed to protect you, and I couldn't even do that."

He paused, something rising in his throat. It was grief, the grief of a husband and of a man who felt that he was truly alone. He tried to hold it in briefly, but relented.

"I-," he sobbed, struggling to speak past his tears. "I didn't deserve you, any of you. You were all so bright and intelligent, while I… I just screwed everything up, no matter what it was."

_Worthless, _a dark part of his mind whispered. _Uselesscowardlydeficientwastedspacenotworthy-_

He stamped down on it, not willing to let that old despair reclaim him. He had allowed it to rule his life for nigh eight years. All it had gotten him was two of his loved ones killed. No longer.

"My promise is most likely meaningless," he said, still half-sobbing. "But I swear, here and now, that I will not let another tragedy befall this family. Even if I have to fight the entire world, if I have too burn it to the ground, I will keep them safe. That, is something I can guarantee."

He felt it in his gut the longer he knelt in front of these graves, coiling and riling like a mad serpent. Its touch scorched him like fire, but he found it invigorating. He recognized this feeling, and while it slightly worried him, he embraced it nonetheless. It was a preferable alternative to despair.

He gazed to Lelouch's tombstone.

"I need to break one more promise, Lelouch," he said, tears streaming but gaze resolute. "I can no longer be a symbol of peace. That dream is dead, ground to dust by the very people we wanted to help. What I can be, is a protector of our family. And if that means seeing Britannia ascendant, even striding over the corpses of those we both knew, then so be it. The world has taken enough from us, from me."

"No more."

His eyes blazed with an emerald fire, the tears now burning across his face with the heat of his fury. It came from a mixture of things; the deplorable hand life had dealt him, the cruelty of the world towards his friends, the treachery that had robbed him of yet another loved one. All of it combined to settle in his heart like a cold fire.

This fire, he had felt it once before. It had driven him to plant Britannia's flag in the still beating of heart of European liberty, to drive the Lancelot into suicidal charges against superior Black Knight numbers, and to carve the words _All Hail Britannia _into the still chest of the dream of independence in the areas. This fire, he would nurture it for however long he needed. If so called upon, he knew that it would enable him to engulf his old homeland in the fires of destruction and occupation without an ounce of regret.

Fury. Rage. Hate.

Let the U.F.N. laugh at them as they buried their beloved Sovereign. They would not have many occasions afterward to do so. Not if he had a say.

The cloaked figure of Zero stood once more, and it was clear that he had a drive not present when he had knelt. He turned to his family, all of them gazing at him with love and sympathy. At the sight of them, he felt the fire abate, but it did not go out. That was fine.

For them, he would let this fire rage into an inferno to rival hell itself.

"Do you need a minute alone?" C.C. asked, her gaze holding a hint of understanding. He suspected that she somehow knew what he felt. "We can leave you and William for a moment."

Suzaku looked to William, who shook his head. "Just let me say my goodbyes. I won't be long."

The two walked past each other, but not before Suzaku grabbed his son's shoulder. "I am here, son. You will not endure this alone."

William nodded; those familiar eyes resolute even through their own tears. "I know, Father. The same goes for you."

With that Suzaku allowed his son to pass and have his own moment. He did not look behind him knowing that William had fallen to his knees before his mother's grave, chest heaving with an unquantifiable grief. Another ember for his inner fire; his son would not be robbed like this again.

"Robert," he said as he approached the group, gaining his nephew's attention. "I have a request, if you would indulge me."

The young man looked slightly confused, but nodded nonetheless. To his and everyone else's surprise, Suzaku knelt.

"I failed your father, as his knight and as his friend," he said, eyes burning. He pressed on. "Allow me to make up for that here. I only ask, that you do not let me wallow and lay about out of sympathy. I do not want it. Let me help you with your plans. If I need to protect our family as a guardian, I shall. If I need to serve as a pawn on your chessboard, I shall. If I need to carve the proof of our rage and sorrow into our enemies, I shall. Ask it, and I shall do my utmost to fulfill your command."

Robert looked stunned by the declaration, along with Emeline, Catherine and C.C. Of all the things they had expected him to say, this was certainly not it. Understandably so; he knew that he was being a far cry from the gentle-mannered man they knew. He didn't let that bother him. His gaze was focused solely on Robert. After a moment, the young man's eyes hardened, and Suzaku was struck by how similar he was to his father. His eyes held the same fire and resolve, and his stance radiated confidence and power without being tainted by arrogance. He looked like a king.

In that moment, Suzaku knew that Robert would change the world.

_Just as I helped Lelouch build this world, _he thought wryly. _I'll help his son tear it down. Fitting._

"I will accept your help, Uncle," he said, offering his hand. After a moment, Suzaku took it and was pulled to his feet. "Not as a servant, but as an equal. You are a part of this family, and you will have a chance to have the wrongs done to you answered. We all will. I swear it."

He nodded, still holding onto Robert's hand.

"As equals then."

* * *

_Pendragon, Britannia, May 5__th__, 2039 A.T.B._

C.C. awoke that day with both a spring in her step and a monumental sense of dread and destiny.

Today was the day that her son would be crowned, following the same path as Lelouch all those years ago.

No, not the same path. Her lover had sacrificed himself upon the pyres of the world's hatred in an overly grand suicide that she still regretted being unable to stop. Robert would stand astride the world triumphant, if she had anything to say about it. Nothing less was acceptable to the immortal.

She had been given a sumptuous set of quarters, befitting her status as a (former) consort of a Britannian Emperor. A fourposter bed held silken sheets, while the walls were colored in a dark burgundy. A few handcrafted pieces of wooden furniture in the Georgian style were set around the room, and a towering set of windows allowed her a view of the rising sun. To left of the door there lay a wardrobe, and next to the bed was the entrance to the bathroom.

She went about her morning routine with little of her usual laziness. Before long, she had showered and donned the gown (the same one given to her by Lelouch, complete with the eye motif and all) which she would later wear at the ceremony. She had an especially important part to play. It would not do if she looked anything less than resplendent. She could have had servants help her, but in what surely would have been a surprise to many she did not actually like being waited upon. The lime haired woman was used to taking care of herself, and even centuries of living had done little to remove her ingrained desire to be self-sufficient. Robert and Emeline were the same; Emeline actually hated the idea of being pampered and catered to like some doll, and Robert simply wanted to dress and bathe himself, thank you very much.

She gave herself a once over in the mirror before turning to a nightstand. Only three objects sat atop its polished surface; an electric lamp, and two picture frames holding both of C.C.'s most treasured possessions.

One was a picture taken of her and Lelouch at some point in the early days of the Zero Requiem, before they had begun the final stages of the plan. They were in the middle of a waltz, both of them wearing looks of bliss and contentment. It was the day he had her declared as his empress. There had been no wedding ceremony or other such nonsense, but he had thrown an extravagant ball in her honor. Few of Britannia's upper crust had even bothered to attend, refusing to play along with the upstart. She had loved every second of it, mostly because she could claim openly and with pride that he was hers, and she was his. They had danced the night away, two lovers keen to spend every second in each other's arms. It was one of the few peaceful days they had ever shared together.

She reached out and took hold of the frame, holding it reverently and gazing upon the image of her love with adoring eyes. With a sigh, she kissed the frame before setting it back down on the nightstand.

_How I miss you, my Warlock, _she thought with no small amount of longing. She reached for the second frame, holding it with just as much reverence. _Would that you could be here now…_

The second picture was taken a few years after Zero Requiem, and before things had started to go wrong. It was of her and her two children, and they had been visiting a remote beach in the area of the Mediterranean. The trip itself had been rather mundane, but this particular moment served to warm her heart. They were just so… so happy, being there with each other. Happy, and innocent. Her children had yet to see what hatred could drive people to do. Had yet to see what cruelty was. She had hoped that they never would.

_Robert, Emeline, my moon and stars, _she thought, pressing a kiss to this picture as well. _How I love you both. _

Indeed, C.C. loved her children, far more than she had thought was possible. For so long, she had thought motherhood would be nothing short of utter fantasy for her. Idly she had wondered if she was even capable of conceiving; some aspects of the Code were still a mystery to her even today. And it had never bothered the immortal. After all, wouldn't children simply grow old and die while she lived on, forever alone? Surely it wasn't worth the risk of going through such pain, something that would only compound the loneliness and desolation that had been her companions for centuries.

Then, she had met Lelouch. They had fallen in love, and before he died he had left C.C. with two children to raise. Two beautiful, improbable, brilliant children, whom the world would hate simply for being born. What had once been nothing but idle fantasy had suddenly become one of the central aspects of C.C.'s life, and a burden both she and her new family would be forced to endure. She would do anything for them.

_Even if it means destroying everything, _she thought, gazing out the window. The sun was beginning to rise. Briskly, she turned and made to exit her quarters. There was little time for reminiscing. She had a son to crown.

* * *

Like her mother, Emeline had awoken early to get ready for the coronation. She had risen at the same time the servants began their morning routines, donning the Guards dress uniform that had been made available to her. She did have her uniform as a lieutenant in the Britannian Armed Forces, but it was not quite formal enough for this, and her commission wasn't actually under the name of vi Britannia, so it didn't feel right. Typically, a royal would have worn something far more elaborate to a coronation, but Emeline cared little for such foibles. That, and it wasn't exactly common knowledge that she and her brother were members of the royal family, though that would change after today. For the moment, they were simply guests of the vi Britannias. Important guests, as the servants had all been made aware, but guests nonetheless.

The looks on their faces when they realized whom she and Robert actually were would be priceless.

Shaking her head at such trivial thoughts, the young woman exited her quarters after competing her morning ablutions, grabbing a light breakfast and nodding respectfully at any servants who happened to pass by. Few paid her any attention beyond a curt nod in return, seeing as they were all busy seeing to last minute preparations. The ceremony would be held in the throne room, but that didn't mean that other areas of the palace could be ignored during this momentous day.

Briskly she made her way to her brother's rooms, where he was surely getting ready. Technically she shouldn't have been going to see him, something about giving the prospective ruler time to reflect and prepare, but the raven-haired woman cared little for such things in the face of knowing that her older brother could surely use some support. He had to be feeling at least a little anxious, and Emeline certainly wouldn't blame him. She would have been sweating bullets.

_This burden he's about to bear is a heavy one, _she mused, frowning slightly. _He'll need help to carry it, and I'll be right there to give it._

Before long she had made it to her destination, noting the single guardsman at the door. It seemed Jeremiah was trying to be inconspicuous with her brother's protection. While one guard might have seemed rather light security for the future ruler of the nation, Emeline knew for a fact that he was hardly the only person currently keeping watch over her brother. It was a certainty that at least some of the servants in this hall were Shinozaki shinobi, all of them ready to leap to their liege's defense at a moment's notice. She paid it no mind.

"I would speak with my brother for a moment," she said to the guard, not stopping her approach. It was clear that it wasn't exactly a request.

"Of course, My Lady," he said, bowing slightly. "One moment."

He opened the door slightly and leaned in to announce her presence. Before long he nodded to her, holding the door open. With little delay she entered the room, idly noting its rich luxury. The sheer wealth on display in the royal palace made Emeline slightly uncomfortable. While she and her family had hardly lived a life of poverty (the funds father had left their mother were more than enough to insure all three of them lived comfortably), they had also tried to live modestly, weary of attracting the wrong sort of attention. There was also the fact that while the palace was adorned with all sorts of luxury, and services and entertainments were available with the push of a button, much of the country was far less fortunate. More than a few common citizens were struggling to make ends meet, and it was not a rare sight to see someone unable to put food on their table consistently. It felt hypocritical to live in such a place when her fellow Britannians were suffering.

_That won't last for long. Not if we have anything to say about it._

After a moment her violet gaze landed on her brother, standing at the window and deep in thought. He had exchanged his usual attire of a fine but simple suit for a set of white robes of state, and after a moment she realized that they were rather similar to the robes worn by their father during his brief tenure as Emperor. The outer robes were laid out neatly on a dressing table, seeming like the feathers of a dove at rest. The sight caused both a pang of longing for what she had never known and a swell of pride in her bosom. At long last, her brother would assume his birthright.

"It's unlike you to brood, Robert," she said as she approached, smiling softly. "Especially on such a day as this."

He turned to her; his gaze fond if somewhat troubled. She had been right, he was anxious.

"Merely thinking, sister," he said, turning away from the window. "Monarchy is such a peculiar thing, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "If I'd known you were going to treat me to one of your lectures I might have reconsidered dropping by. Honestly." She jested; they both knew she would have come regardless.

He smirked, though it didn't have its usual edge. "Do indulge me. It's just, what qualifications do I actually have? I have not lead armies in battle, or managed an administration with great efficiency. I have not managed the nobles' petty politics, or navigated the maze of international diplomacy. The people don't even know who I am, and yet I am expected to be their Sovereign. To somehow drag this nation back to a semblance of dignity. All because our father slept with our mother, and I happened to be born first. It's all rather surreal, when you really look at it. Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream."

Emeline frowned, though not without sympathy. Her brother's worries were understandable; after all, he really didn't have any actual experience in leading a country, especially one in such a precarious state as Britannia. Lesser men would have outright refused. It spoke of her brother's humility (and anxiety) that even on his coronation day, he continued to wonder what he had done to actually earn this. Nonetheless, she quickly answered.

"In a way you're right, brother," she said, moving over to the dressing table to run her hands over the outer robes of Robert's ensemble. "At first glance, you aren't what one would consider qualified. You have no experience, and only your education as to the theoretical nature of rulership. Hell, there's quite a few things that _I _can do better than you. Fencing, for one. You still haven't beaten me. Poker, Smash Brothers, among others…"

He harrumphed, and she smirked playfully. "You're doing a _lovely _job of inspiring me, Emy…"

"Someone has to keep you humble, brother mine, especially since you'll be _Your Majesty _before long," she said, before turning serious once more. "Yes, on the surface that is true. But if anyone bothered to look, they would see what I see."

She gathered up the robes in her arms, advancing steadily to her brother.

"What I see is a man of outstanding ability and character, ready to do his duty for his country. A man who was deemed worthy by our mother, our aunt, by the very cousin whose place in the succession you took, to sit on that throne. A man who loves his people, whose heart cries out at the injustice inflicted upon them. A man who has directed his agents and retainers with skill in tracking down the killers of our aunt. A man who is ready to stare the world in the eye and say, _no more._"

With a flourish, she set the outer robes on her brother's taller shoulders, taking a moment to fix them properly. The entire time her eyes never left his, showing him the depths of her belief. Violet gazed into amber, and neither wavered. Truly, her brother's eyes were mesmerizing. They were like pools of gold, brilliantly colored with the dazzling shine of the sun. Those eyes held some anxiety, still, but there was also gratitude, and ease. Her words were having the desired effect.

"Looking at you, I see a king," she said with finality, putting her hand on his shoulder. There was naught but sincerity and affection in her words. "A king who will weather everything to better the lives of his people. And I will stand at your side, your fellow inheritor of our father's legacy. We will step forward into the world today, and we will do it _together._"

Robert smiled, nodding in assent. Her words had not banished his doubts (indeed, for him to have doubts about this endeavor at all spoke to the fact that he was a sane man), but they had assuaged them, and he was reminded that he was not alone in this.

"Thank you, sister," he said softly, before taking a second to glance in the mirror. Seeing his reflection, in all its regnant magnificence, must have satisfied him, for he quickly made to exit the room. "Shall we go then? We have a world to dazzle."

"Yes, let's," Emeline replied, moving to his right. Her eyes glittered with anticipation.

It was time for them to declare to the entire world, that for good or ill, they were here.

* * *

As the capitol of one of the most important member-states of the U.F.N., Tokyo boasted an impressive military garrison. Though there were few organizations that could pose an actual threat in this current era, that had not stopped the Black Knights from building a sizeable base on the outskirts of the city. While it wasn't so much for combat operations as for housing the military administration (the activities of U.F.N. forces throughout the western Pacific were managed from here) it housed a formidable force. A full division was stationed within the base, creatively named Tokyo Base, at any time, and as it was mechanized this meant it included a full strength knightmare regiment. Amongst this regiment's units was the legendary knightmare squad known as Zero Squadron. Formed in the earliest days of the Black Knights by the original Zero himself, to even be considered for the unit was considered high appraisal of one's skill as a pilot. Doubly so, since the captain of the squad and the person in charge of the selection process was none other than the Red Lotus. The symbol of Japanese tenacity and courage, the Ace of Aces. She was a legend, even two decades after her exploits.

Said legend desperately needed a cup of coffee. Preferably black.

"Long day, Captain?" one of her subordinates, Uehara Shinichiro, asked as she practically dragged herself into the rec room. Some of the other squad members were there as well, and they looked on bemused at their leader's single-minded focus on the coffee machine.

"Even the great Red Lotus has a weakness it seems," another member of the squad, Tokoyami Akira, joked. "Who would have guessed it'd be the bureaucrats?"

Kallen ignored them, going through the motions of pouring herself a cup. Once done, she wasted little time in chugging all of the dark liquid in one go. She barely noticed the temperature, focusing on the full flavor of the coffee. Being famous in the military had its perks; in this case, it was access to damn fine coffee. She idly noted that the room's tv was on in the background, the channels changing with rapid speed.

Once she was finished, she set the mug down gently, heaving a great sigh in exasperation as she did so. "If I'd known this would be the peace I was fighting for, I think I would have let the Britannians just shoot me. That would have been preferable to hearing them drone on and _on _about the budget and public relations."

The squad visibly winced. They guessed from her words that she'd had to deal with not just any bureaucrat, but a member of the Diet at that. Truly, their captain was a woman of steel, to have survived such a long encounter.

"I'm guessing it was another meeting about potential budget cuts again?"

She nodded, pouring another mug of coffee. This time, she savored the drink, not emptying the mug in one gulp. It was heavenly. "Yes, but this time one of the pencil pushers thought they could actually lecture _Todoh fucking_ _Kyoshiro _like a school boy. I think he was a second away from bursting a vein, or choking the idiot. Maybe both."

Zero Squadron snickered. Even for a civilian politician, trying to talk down to General Todoh was a move of extreme idiocy. Whoever the man was that did it, they all decided he was lucky that the general's respect for decorum outweighed his disdain for political trifles. The general's cold fury was something to behold, from a distance of course.

"Such is the folly of the elected official," Uehara said with a shrug. "It could be worse, ma'am; at least as a captain you only get called into those things to provide numbers and context. Heaven help you if you actually have to participate as anything above a field officer."

"I think I'll resign instantly if they offer me a promotion then, if _that's _what I have to look forward to," Kallen said with a small smirk. "Give me a knightmare duel any day."

With that she went silent, simply enjoying her coffee and listening to her squad's usual banter. It brought a smile to her face; even if none of them were the original members of Zero Squadron (those who had survived the Great War were either retired or serving in administrative roles) she saw them as hers. They'd all seen some minor combat, mostly in the peacekeeping missions they'd flown in the Congo a few months back. Nothing compared to what she had seen during the Black Rebellion or Great War, but enough for them to prove their mettle and forge their bonds in fire. She felt confident that if somehow the U.F.N. ended up in a shooting war with a major power, they'd prove themselves as fine knightmare pilots.

_Not like that'll happen any time soon, _she thought to herself. _The E.U. is our ally, and Russia won't pull anything even if they like to blow hot air about Siberia._

_And Britannia… _

At that she frowned slightly, taking a deeper swig of her coffee. Part of the reason she'd been so drained by the meeting earlier today was that the Diet member she'd mentioned had been one of those _lovely _individuals who had it out for anything connected with Britannia. And seeing as she was half-Britannian, even as the Red Lotus Kallen's mixed blood had drawn some underhanded snipes and remarks.

Todoh hadn't been ready to snap the man's head off because he was a boring bureaucrat, it was because he had been a racist asshole who had the gall to insult a war hero and his subordinate simply because her father was a Britannian. She'd borne it with dignity, knowing that many had it far worse than she did. But she wouldn't mention that to her squad; they didn't need the unnecessary drama.

_At least Reiko is having a good day, _she thought with a slight smile. _I'll need to talk to Todoh later so he doesn't ask why his son looks like the devil came calling when he comes over in a few days._

"Hey, hey, change it back," one of them, Ishihara Naoko, said as the tv kept running. "I think that was the Britannians' coronation ceremony."

"Oh, who cares?" another, Teruya Fumiko, groaned from her spot on the couch. "It'd just be some boring pomp and circumstance."

"Actually, I kind of wanna see it," Uehara chimed in, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Don't you guys want to know who their next monarch is going to be? The Brits have been tight-lipped about it."

"Me too, now that you mention it," another squad member, Sawada Mamoru, said from his spot at the counter. "Put it on!"

Eventually, the coronation was put back on screen, and everyone quieted down to listen. Kallen herself looked on half-interestedly, sipping her coffee. She was still upset she hadn't been able to attend Nunnally's funeral, but realistically she knew it wasn't possible. Between her duties and the P.R. nightmare such a visit would have been, it had been better to simply stay away. She had made sure to tune in for the broadcast, and she'd genuinely come close to tears when Zero (_even you didn't deserve this Suzaku…) _had given his eulogy. She'd raised a glass of brandy to the deceased Sovereign, wishing her a peaceful afterlife with her brother.

"… _we are coming to you live from the Britannian Royal Palace. Such a gathering has not happened in this place since the ascension of Nunnally vi Britannia some twenty years ago…_"

"Woah, that's a lot of nobles," Ishihara said, leaning forward. "It looks like almost the entire old aristocracy is there. Wonder how they pulled that off?"

"What do you mean?" Teruya asked, glancing over. "Aren't they supposed to be at the Crown's beck and call? Getting them all there should be as simple as breathing."

"… _have been told that every preparation has been made to make this ceremony as grand as can be, with respect to the current economic situation…_"

"The Britannian nobility haven't had a very good relationship with the monarchy the past couple of decades," Kallen said, garnering everyone's attention. "Between the Ninety-Ninth Emperor's abolishing of old privileges and his sister's refusal to reinstate any of said privileges, quite a few of them are bitter. They can't really do anything about it since most of the aristocracy's power was broken during the purges, but the nobles still hold a lot of sway in their local lands. The fact that most of them are here is… odd. Maybe there was some sort of arrangement?"

"Or maybe they're trying to size up future competition," Sawada chimed in, crossing his arms. "There were rumors that some nobles were thinking about seizing the throne for themselves. They could just be here to see who's who before the shooting starts."

"Possibly," Kallen said with a nod, sipping her coffee. "Britannian politics can be cutthroat at the best of times."

"… _citizens all over the country, and indeed the world, are tuning in to see just who the mystery Sovereign will be. I for one am waiting with baited breath…_"

"Maybe they were brainwashed," Teruya said, lowering her voice and wiggling her fingers. She gave a mock-sinister grin to Ishihara "The Britannians must have used those mind-control devices people _insist _the Demon Emperor actually used to take over the world."

"I _really _need to think twice before web diving with you again," Ishihara said with a long-suffering sigh.

"Shhh, it looks like things are starting!"

"… _and now, we are told that the ceremony proper is about to begin. We will bring you uninterrupted coverage…_"

* * *

All over the world, those who cared enough to look stopped what they were doing to watch the coronation ceremony begin. From bars and pubs in Britannia to a meeting room holding the European Council to the Ohgi-Nu residence, people tuned in to see what would happen. Quite a few people with smartphones and a good internet connection found themselves surrounded by total strangers, eager to watch.

Most did so out of simple curiosity, attracted by the mystery and intrigue that had built with the hidden identity of the heir. Others did so because of duty, needing to know what sort of person they would be dealing with when interacting with the Britannian Principality in the future. A few were simply dragged along with the crowd, and had no idea what was actually happening.

Regardless of their reason, one thing was certain. Everyone wanted a show, and they were certainly about to get one.

* * *

_Pendragon, Britannia, 2039 A.T.B._

Robert breathed deeply as he stood before the great doors leading to the throne room, waiting for the signal to enter. His pulse raced in his ears, and he could feel his heart banging against the confines of his ribcage. He was lucky he didn't sweat when nervous, else his elaborate outfit might have suffered for it.

_Easy, _he thought to himself, gazing forward. _Father did this without the benefit of a planned-out event, and the very real possibility of being killed. This is nothing._

Yes, that was lovely to think and all, but that didn't really detract from the fact that the _entire world was watching. _It was one thing to practice a coronation with only the event planners and those who would be participating. It was another thing entirely to do it for real, in front of an audience of millions. Quite a few of which would be more than happy to kill him. A few of those would be dealt with in short order, they had already made all the necessary preparations, but there would still be many, many more.

He took another deep breath.

_I am not alone,_ he thought, feeling a delicate hand slide into his and squeeze with all its might. He turned a grateful smile to his wife, who was utterly dazzling in her elaborate dress of white and azure. Her hair was curled immaculately, and her blue eyes shined like the summer sky. She looked every inch an empress, as she was meant to be.

_As she will be, _Robert thought, feeling a small thrill of excitement at that. Truly, he was blessed, to be able to have such a woman at his side. He leaned forward and kissed her briefly, wishing to express some of what he was feeling in that moment. Her gaze was filled with love and support.

"God, whoever said familiarity breeds contempt clearly never met you two," Emeline said, her snark unable to hide the fond smile she wore. "I can feel a cavity coming in just from watching."

"Is that jealousy I detect, Emy?" Catherine said playfully, her eyes alight. "Perhaps you'd like me to kiss you as well?"

"No thanks, tried that at the academy," Emeline shot back, though she did take a step back just in case. "Found out I don't like girls that way."

"And I'm sure they all weep at that fact," Robert said, using the brevity to help calm his nerves further. "After all, you cut _such _a dashing figure in uniform, dear sister."

"Better this than whatever you've decided to subject yourself to by wearing _that_," the raven-haired woman sniped. "Let's hope you don't trip on the way to the throne; wouldn't be the best way to start our plans for world domination now would it?"

"No, definitely not," Catherine said with a chuckle, one he echoed. They stopped when one of the armsmen at the door pressed a finger to his ear before nodding to them. "Your Highnesses, they are ready."

Robert nodded back, and now that he focused, he could hear the rumble of multiple voices coming from the door. They carried the flavor of surprise and shock. _Mother and Uncle must have made their entrance, then. _

Catherine let go of his hand to return to her place in the line directly behind Emeline, who stood directly behind Robert. Behind Catherine several ladies-in-waiting stood ready to carry the silken trails of her dress, which stretched behind the woman a good distance. The outfit was more elaborate than what she usually went for, but it was felt that in this instance a bit of dramatic flair was warranted.

He breathed deeply, savoring the air. It would be his last breath as a simple man. After this, he would be wedded to the nation, for all the good and ill things that carried with it. Part of him was still a nervous wreck at the prospect. But the rest of him felt a thrill. At last, his time spent hiding from the world was over. Beginning here, he and his family would begin the process of correcting his father's mistake.

"Let's get to it, then," he said, nodding again to armsman. With a nod of his own, the armsman and his companion opened the doors, and Robert began his march to destiny.

**Play Zadok the Priest**

The throne room was as magnificent as the first day he had entered it, all those years ago. Great columns rose from the ground like mighty titans, soaring high to the vaulted ceilings far above. Frescoes of great Britannian Emperors stared down upon the hall, and large galleries were placed upon both sides. It was there that the guests sat, nobles and dignitaries who'd been invited to see the first real coronation of a Britannian monarch in decades. Guardsmen in resplendent red dress uniforms stood to either side of a red carpet, their ceremonial halberds held at attention. Massive windows higher in the walls allowed the suns rays to shine through, creating a spectacular display as beams of light came down in strategically calculated areas to give maximum effect.

At the other end of the hall there was a raised platform tiered with steps, at the summit of which was the throne of Robert's forefathers. Behind it an impressively sized flag of the Britannian Principality hung from the wall, flanked by two smaller banners adorned with the crest of House vi Britannia (a series of golden bees on a purple field, to symbolize industriousness and diligence, among other things). Around the throne there was an array of impressively dressed characters, most prominently his mother and Zero, who stood on either side of the throne itself. On a gilded plinth at his mother's side sat the ceremonial crown, while Zero held the rod and scepter. Much consideration had been given to the decision to have these two placed where they were. It was meant as a statement of multiple dimensions; the new regime was the legacy of the Liberator, and one which the old administration of Nunnally would support wholeheartedly in its efforts.

Briefly he glanced to either side, taking in the richly dressed nobility in the galleries, enjoying their looks of shock. There was no doubt that quite a few had put the dots together already; he _did _favor his father after all. The presence of his mother at the side of the throne was a big enough hint already. They were too far away for Robert to see specifically each individual face, but he could tell that there was a variety of emotions being played out in the crowd. Blatant surprise, dread, calculation. And, in a few aristocratic faces that he spied, hope. He made particular note of that; hope in his people was something he could work wonders with.

As the procession solemnly made its way to the end of the great hall, the choir sang out the notes of _Zadok the Priest_, each note being hit with the perfection of heaven and the clarity of a polished crystal. Robert was not too religious, but all the same as the anthem progressed, he was moved. This was not simply some ode to long dead biblical figures; this was a precious piece of the monarchy's history, passed down to him and his people from generations of Britannian rulers. In the words he heard not only the declarations of grace and greatness, but also an obligation: _prove thyself worthy of this adulation. _

After the stately pace of the procession, he finally made it to the platform. Instead of taking a step forward, he knelt as was custom. His sister stepped forward to remove the outer robes, holding them in her arms and stepping back to a respectful distance. From his place, he saw the elderly Bishop of Pendragon bring forth the oil and golden cross.

"Robert, son of Lelouch, son of Charles, you have been called upon…"

* * *

"Holy shit…"

Reiko watched, astounded, as a man who could have passed for the Demon Emperor himself knelt at the foot of the throne, clad in the same robes said emperor had worn years ago. While her mom was still at the military base, she had decided to drop by the Ohgi-Nu house after school, both to talk with her friend Chiyo and her family over dinner and because they were planning to watch the coronation ceremony. That, and Chiyo had demanded she give her the full details of her confession to Todoh Ryota in person. Ohgi-san was watching because, even if his position in the Japanese government as the Minister of Education wasn't related to foreign affairs, he still felt it was his duty to stay abreast of current events. His wife Viletta was doing so because she was by blood Britannian; even if her home was now in Japan she still felt the pull of her birthplace. They also had Tamaki-san over as well, who had decided to watch with them because, what the hell? He was the one who had dropped the curse, and as Reiko glanced over, she saw him quickly take a bracing swig of the bourbon he'd been nursing.

"… _you are the soil, the water, the air, the shield and sword which will defend the people…_"

Reiko turned back to the screen, seeing a clergyman step forward and start dabbing oil onto the man's forehead while reciting some speech. A knot of disquiet settled into her stomach when the footage shifted to an angle that showed the Britannian's amber eyes. They burned with resolute fire.

_Things aren't going to be the same at all anymore, are they?_

* * *

"… _you are supreme master of the nation, but also its humblest servant. With your power comes the duty to shepherd the people and the lords and the land with utmost diligence…_"

In his office within the Kremlin, the Russian Prime Minister watched stoically as a plan he had been involved with for years finally unfolded in its first stages. His cigar sat to the side, smoke lazily drifting from its burning tip. His wizened eyes focused on the young man kneeling in the throne room, reciting an oath that sounded oddly similar to a pledge of knighthood. Him, and the blonde woman standing a few paces behind him. A small smirk spread on his face.

_And so, the game begins._

* * *

"… _I shall defend all, I shall guide all, I shall provide justice for all, so help me almighty God…_"

Within a similar office in Beijing, the Chairman of the U.F.N. ground his teeth. Before him was a ghost, or perhaps a demon, which was coming to haunt all of the world after two decades of silence. Beside the old hate he carried within his torn heart, there was also a kernel of disquiet.

They had failed to erase every trace of vi Britannia from the earth when they had the chance. And now, now the world would suffer for it.

* * *

"… _if it be within my power, the suffering of the land will be healed, the joy of the people will return…_"

The pub was absolutely silent, the commoners within all captivated by what they were witnessing. For them, it seemed as if a prayer they hadn't even known they'd made was being answered.

They saw no ghost or demon, but a messiah come down to earth. Everyone had heard the bishop's opening statement, and had seen the young man's similarities to the previous emperor. And as he recited his oaths, their hearts beat in tandem with his words.

For the first time in years, the Britannian people began to hope.

* * *

"… and I will see this mighty task through to the end, unto my last breath."

William watched as Robert completed his oath, ruthlessly quashing the feeling of envy that welled up within him. It had no place in this momentous day of days, where his cousin would begin the long and arduous task of restoring their country. William knew that, even if it appeared that Robert was assuming a position that was historically known for its wealth and splendor, he did not have an easy road ahead of him.

That was why, even as he watched from his place behind the throne, he decided he would do his utmost to help. Even if it was a minor task, William would tackle it with zeal if it meant helping his people regain their dignity. It was the least he could do as one of their princes.

"_I know it may seem like I am stealing something from you, or that I don't find you worthy, my son," _his mother had said to him when he was first informed that he would not inherit. His initial reaction had been crushing disappointment, mostly in himself. He'd assumed that she'd seen something lacking in him. _"But that could not be further from the truth. For one, the task I am giving to your cousin is one that has crushed lesser men and women, and even the greatest of our ancestors were eventually bowed by this weight. He will suffer. But that is why you must be there; you must be one of the supports that keeps him from collapsing. And of all our family, I know that your gentle heart and soul makes you best suited to this. I am counting on you, William."_

_A pillar, a support, _he thought to himself as his father approached Robert, having exchanged the rod and scepter for an ornate sword. _That I can do._ This part of the ceremony was meant to symbolize the handing of authority over Britannia's armed forces; it was even closer to a knighting than the previous ritual with the bishop had been. The sword was touched to each shoulder once, Zero reciting the traditional words of the warrior kings of England, Britain, and Britannia.

"Be the Sword, the Shield, the Wall, and the Will. By almighty God and all the laws of the land will you lead the defense of your people. Bring Glory and Prosperity, or else give Britannia an honorably dead son."

The sword was handed back to a servant, and as the last part of the ritual Zero slapped Robert across both cheeks. A resounding _smack _echoed twice within the chamber. It was a reminder that this power was not to be taken lightly. Not that Robert needed such a reminder; his cousin was nothing if not self-aware of the responsibilities his blood afforded him.

With that, Robert rose, finally allowed to make his way to the throne.

* * *

Kallen stared at the screen, the coffee mug having fallen from her grasp and shattered on the floor. Idly she noted she'd need to clean that up, but that could wait until after she had processed the turmoil that was raging within her. The rest of Zero Squadron were too captivated to notice the commotion, just as shocked as many others at the turn of events.

She clutched at her chest, hoping to alleviate the pain she felt within it. The sight of C.C. in that dress had been bad enough, stirring memories with the witch she'd thought buried, but when the raven-haired man (Lelouch's _son_) entered the throne room, she felt the stirrings of an old pain. It was a mixture of longing, the confused heartbreak of _what if_ blended with self-recrimination and betrayal, and profound loss. For the sight of that man told Kallen everything she needed to know.

Lelouch had chosen someone else over her. Even after all these years, that thought hurt her more than she had believed it could. It was useless to pine over it, especially when she'd made a new life and her own family. She was happy, even if things weren't perfect.

She would remember that, after she stopped feeling this aching void within her chest.

* * *

Robert breathed deeply as he sat gently upon the throne, keeping himself as dignified as he could. Once he had placed himself upon the chair, Mother and Uncle moved to place the artifacts of office in his grasp. First the Imperial Ring, placed upon his right hand. Then the Scepter, to be grasped in his left. The Rod, placed within his right. He felt their weight, only adding onto the burden he could already sense building. Things of gold and gems, they symbolized both his blood and its binding to the land, his duty to rule justly, and his duty to maintain order and security, whether that be domestic or foreign.

They were naught but distractions against the final piece of the ensemble.

With great reverence and care he had only seen her show towards him and his sister in their childhood, his mother picked up the Crown of St. George, holding it aloft like an icon to reveal gospel. It too was a thing of gold and jewels, along with velvet and delicate fur. Slowly, she made her way to stand in front of her son, holding the crown over his head. Her eyes bored into his, and he saw both pride and apology. She understood all too well what she was doing to him. He nodded minutely and smiled, showing his mother that he understood, and was ready.

Slowly, the crown was placed upon his head, and C.C.'s hands left it. Physically, the crown's weight was negligible. Yet he felt as if Atlas had dropped the sky upon his shoulders. This was it; his duty, his curse, began now, until his death. There would be no going back.

His mother stepped back, and as one the entirety of the hall knelt. It was surreal to him; everything had taken on an unnaturally sharp clarity. The sunlight streaming in from the windows almost seemed too bright, and he imagined he could hear the breath of every soul in the room.

"Hail, His Majesty! Hail, Robert I!"

Jeremiah cried out the words with gusto and enthusiasm, as was the traditional role of the Captain of the Guards. All within the hall rose at the words, theirs hands on their breasts. The guardsmen raised their halberds in salute, and the clergymen clasped their books and crosses in prayer.

"_Hail! Hail! Hail!_"

The words resounded in his ears, and Robert's soul trembled. This was the power that had haunted his family for generations, and it was now his.

_Best not see it wasted then._

With a nod he handed off the rod and scepter to his uncle, and his sister stepped forward to receive a purple pillow from an attendant, upon which sat a tiara adorned with diamonds and silver. It was the crown that Charles VI had commissioned for Marianne when she was made his Empress. There had been some disquiet from his mother and uncle at including it in the ceremony, but he had waved off their concerns. It would have been wasteful to have another made when there was a perfectly good tiara right there. And he found it fitting that one of the most valuable artifacts of his despot of a grandfather's reign would see use in a regime whose values were diametrically opposed to it.

With a smile, he looked to his wife, who stepped forward.

* * *

Catherine hid a tremble as she knelt before her husband's throne. The limelight was on her now, and while this part of the ceremony arguably was not as important as the rest, she felt goosebumps spread upon her skin and a chill run down her spine.

_Breathe, _she told herself, eyes locked upon Robert to garner strength. _This is nothing compared to what he must endure now. Together, you are unbreakable._

Unbidden, the memories sprang forward, sending her heart even more aflutter.

Their first meeting, where he had proven himself a man like few others. Both of them naught but teenagers, already forced to be older than their years.

"_I will not marry a stranger," he declared with finality, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room with a strength that would not be bested. Unaware of her shocked gaze upon him. "If such a thing as matrimony is necessary for this alliance of ours, then very well. But it will be on _my _terms, and hers. That is not up for discussion."_

Their many discussions afterword, as he set about courting her, giving her the choice of whether she would accept it or not. His mother had approved.

"_You are not what I expected out of the son of the Demon Emperor," she had said plainly as they walked through the city, arm in arm. "In fact, I admit you've completely surprised me."_

"_My deepest apologies for the disappointment, madam," he had replied. "I am afraid I am but a simple man, of even simpler inclinations. The royalty is but an accessory. A rather gauche one, I think."_

_She giggled. "Catherine. You have earned my first name, sir."_

_He smiled. "And you have earned mine, Catherine."_

The vow she made, when she realized that he wasn't a stranger but the man she adored.

"_Against the world, against Hell, against Heaven, I will stand beside you. If you need me to give you support and strength, comfort and hope, I will do it gladly. To the very end."_

She blinked as her husband rose, accepting the tiara from Emeline. He stood before her, gazing upon her with adoration. This was something he had insisted upon. One thing he would never, ever, revive was the idea of multiple consorts. Like his father and aunt, he would only have one person by his side. One Empress to be his quiet strength, to hold him behind closed doors and remind him that he was human, to give him comfort when it all inevitably became too much. The fact that _she _was the one he had chosen for such a role sent a thrill of excitement through her. She was blessed, of that she was certain.

"Yekaterina Feodorovna of House Romanov," he said, his voice echoing through the hall already with the command and gravitas of a king. She took a small breath to brace herself; the cat was out of the bag as to where House Romanov had been all this time now. She knew the old man was paying particular attention, even an ocean away. She felt the eyes of everyone in the hall upon her. "The duty I call upon you to take is not a light one. There will be great joys, there will be tremendous sorrows. But there is none other I deem fit to be my consort. Will you accept this most arduous of tasks?"

She took another breath, meeting Robert's eyes with the same resolute fire that his gaze always exhibited. There was only the two of them. "I will, unto my dying breath. My strength, is your strength. My joys, your joys. My sorrows, your sorrows. Forevermore."

He smiled at her, and with a final breath lowered the tiara upon her head. She felt its weight, both literal and figurative, as his hands left it. It was a weight she would bear with zeal and unending determination.

"Then accept this token, and rise my Queen."

She did so, accepting his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze as the royal couple was presented to the hall. Jeremiah once again called out. "Hail, Her Majesty! Hail, Catherine!"

There was no great kneeling as there had been for her husband, but she still gripped his hand more tightly as the crowd cried out, "_Hail! Hail! Hail!_"

They were stuck in now. Even if it was together, the pressure would be enormous, requiring all of their effort to bear with success. She resolved that it would be so.

Officially, coronation was now complete. Robert was invested as the ruler of Britannia, and she his consort. The only thing left now was to present themselves to the people from the eastern balcony of the palace, per tradition. Still hand in hand, they made their way from the hall to said balcony, followed by the procession of their family. Before long, they approached the doors to the balcony, and set foot upon it to be viewed by the Britannian people – _their people. _With a final bracing breath for both of them they stepped up to the railing, presenting themselves for the view of the masses.

**End Zadok the Priest**

* * *

A vast crowd had gathered at the Eastern Wing of the palace, eager to catch a glimpse of the new Sovereign and his family. Cheering masses were huddled together in their thousands, and more than a few waved a small Britannian flag in their hands. There were even a few St. Darwin's Crosses being waved about, to the approval of many. Young and old, man and woman, rich and poor, they were all here united under love of their country.

When the royal family appeared on the balcony, with the young royal couple at the forefront, the crowd cheered in a massive roar. The legacy of Lelouch the Liberator was strong in Britannian society; the sight of his son bearing the crown filled the Britannians with a great feeling of elation and optimism. At long last, their prayers were answered, or so they hoped. Just as Lelouch I had liberated them from the anachronistic system of noble privilege and corruption, so it was hoped that his son would now liberate them from the chains of poverty and humiliation. Only time would tell if he would be able to do so with any measure of success.

For now, they were content to simply cheer and give vent to their hopes and expectations, fragile dreams ready to shatter like glass.

A sound system had been set up in the plaza, and a microphone was placed on the balcony. Clearly, the new monarch planned a speech. After a few moments of waving and smiling for the crowd, he raised his hands in a request for silence. Once it was given, his voice echoed through the plaza, and to every screen tuned in to the broadcast.

"You do not know me," he began, gazing upon the crowd intently. "Before today, my face has remained hidden from the world, much to my chagrin. For that, I apologize. It was not my wish to hide from the people, but I was left with little choice."

The crowd gazed attentively, eager for every word. It was not the typical start to a coronation speech, but it wasn't terrible either.

"But rest assured," the young man continued, his voice firm. "That I know you. You are the bakers, the office workers, the soldiers, the businessmen. In this crowd I see students, beggars, clerks, butchers, priests and housewives. I have known you ever since I was a child. Rich and poor, man and woman, young and old, atheist and worshipper, noble and commoner, urban dweller and rural folk. I have known you, and I have loved you with all of my heart."

He paused for a moment, appearing to gather his thoughts. With a small nod he resumed.

"That heart has wept at what has befallen my country," he declared, holding the crowd's attention with an iron grip. "What was once one of the proudest and richest nations in human history has been reduced to a shadow of its former self. Reconciliation with the world and a willingness to exchange the sword for the olive branch, while well intentioned and noble, have resulted in the loss of our pride and splendor. Where once our people gathered to partake in the finest crafts that our modern culture had to offer, now they stand in bread ques and unemployment lines that stretch for blocks."

The crowd remained silent, though an air of slight shame emerged. The words were nothing new, everyone either knew someone who was in dire straits or was in such straits themselves. The richest nation the world had ever known could barely feed its own people.

"This is not for want of a competent administration," the Sovereign continued, capturing everyone's attention. "Indeed, for all that the previous government's blunder in foreign affairs cannot be overstated, neither can their genuine attempts to care for the people be denied. Rather, it was outside forces that conspired against this country. Those too bitter to look past their own grudge or those too greedy to resist the temptation have imposed upon Britannia a shameful peace. Nay, not a peace, for peace implies freedom from fear and want. Britannia has become a hostage, chained down by her helplessness and an overabundance of trust in the world."

What had once been an atmosphere of shame had morphed into something else. Indignation, anger, the spirits of the people were now riled with the memory of the source of their woes. Yet still the remained silent, for it was clear their Sovereign was not finished.

"That ends, starting now. While I will freely admit that our nation bears responsibility for the sins committed in the past, I will also declare with absolute conviction that the sins of our forebears are not ours to pay for! There is a difference between just compensation for a misdeed and wholesale theft of a nation's sovereign wealth and resources! If you shatter a person's window, you are obliged to help them fix it, but the mistake does not give them the right to utterly ransack and pillage your home!"

It could be argued that Britannia's expansionist policies in the past had been more than simply destroying their neighbor's window. Quite a few who had been on the opposite end of the Britannian war machine were offended by the comparison. But the crowd was captivated by the golden-eyed monarch; his charisma and confidence gave his words the aura of unshakeable certainty. There was no equivocation; to the Britannians, whose rulers were expected to be proud and commanding, it was a welcome sight.

"It is not my goal to take what does not rightfully to us; indeed, one thing that our critics around the world _are _right about is that our nation's past ways cannot be continued, not if we wish for a better world. What is my goal, however, is the return of my people to a state of security and prosperity. The U.F.N. and the E.U. consistently boast about the freedom they have safeguarded and shared with the world, but what good is freedom without a roof over your head or a meal in your stomach? I would happily exchange the freedom of the bread que for the bounty of hearth and home."

This resonated not just with the Britannians of the homeland, but many in the former colonies as well. The Central and South American nations had been promised a new era of freedom and bliss after they were granted independence, yet all they had found awaiting them was poverty and instability. The former viceroyalties had not been structured to be self-sufficient states, they had been created in the context of an economic zone encompassed by the borders of the empire. Their lack of a particular resource or great amounts of arable land had not mattered much when such things could simply be imported from another province within Britannia. But with the loss of the empire and the rise of new nations and new tariffs, this had become infeasible. The new Sovereign's words were shown great interest by both the average citizen and statesmen in many of these countries.

"Thus, I must leave you with this solemn vow, and this plea. I will endeavor with all of the strength and will that my spirit can muster to make us proud of our nation again. I will not rest, I will not stop, and I will not flinch from the task. But this is something that not even an emperor can do alone. It is you, the people, that will give me the strength I need. The same strength that allowed us to survive the Humiliation of Edinburgh and turn what was a nation of exiles into the greatest empire to ever exist will help us to uplift ourselves from the current state of poverty and squalor. Will you help me?"

The new Sovereign held out his arms as if to offer embrace and succor, his hands stretched out in plea and welcome. It was so unlike the popular perception of what a Britannian monarch was supposed to be, yet it resonated with millions of his citizens. This was not just a distant king or bureaucrat, but a fellow man who would do what he needed to help you in your time of need. It was a powerful image, and would be immortalized in the front pages of tomorrow's newspapers. The crowd finally broke their silence, cheering with all the vigor and strength of a thunderclap. Flags waved frantically, and quite a few people even stretched out their arms, as if they were attempting to return Robert's embrace.

No one knew quite where it started from, or who said it first. But soon the phrase spread, growing louder and louder.

"All hail Britannia!"

It was disjointed noise at first, like an orchestra in the midst of tuning. Individuals screamed it over the cheering, and it spread more and more.

"_All hail Britannia_!"

For those within the Britannian homeland and former colonies sympathetic to it, or even those who were scattered abroad but longed for home, the sound filled them with a long-buried pride and enthusiasm. More and more people loaned their voices to the crowd, and even some who were watching from home or the pub joined in.

"_All hail Britannia!_"

Those watching who were not of Britannian descent, or who did not feel so favorably towards it, were met not with enthusiasm but with dread. There were just as many who did not begrudge Britannia her desire to be treated fairly and receive her just share of the world's current prosperity as there were who would hate her until the day they died, but all of them were unsettled both by the Sovereign's coronation address and by the vigor with which the Britannian people supported it. No one could quite describe it, but the common feeling was that something had changed.

Regardless, the people cheered on, louder and louder, as if wanting to shake the heavens with the strength of their voices.

"_All hail Britannia!_"

"_All hail Britannia!_"

"_ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!_"

"_ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!_"

"**ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!**"

"**ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!**"

"**ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!**"

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, I certainly didn't expect to produce quite this large of a chapter. But I think I'll call this a good stopping point :p The coronation ceremony and the taming of the aristocracy were supposed to be all in one chapter, but after a certain point I realized that would be impossible to do if I wanted to both meet my deadline and keep the chapter's quality at a suitable level. Ironic, since I'm posting a full ten days early.

The idea to make the ceremony similar to a knighting came from the themes of Arthurian legend which Britannia invoked in the main series. Combined with the empire's mentality of meritocracy (nominally, anyway) and the warlike nature of Britannia, I find it very believable that a Britannian coronation would emphasize the more martial aspects of kingship.

As you can see, the Imperial Family has been further whittled down in the years; early on I knew I did not want to include Schneizel, mostly because I couldn't justify both his continued presence and Britannia's current state. He would never have allowed things to deteriorate so far. As for Marybel... I admit I don't know enough about her to confidently write her. I suppose you could assume of her status what you like, but she won't be making an appearance. As for individuals such as Cornelia... wait and see.

As a southerner myself, I can assure you I'm not intentionally trying to portray the area in a bad light. If anything, the locale was selected partially on a whim, to give an example of the spread of the noble conspiracy. It stretches further than the land of the Smokies, that is certain.

If you can, I would like some feedback on the inclusion of a musical number. It was done mostly as an experiment to see how it would improve the writing. If I do so again in the future depends on how you all felt about it.

That wraps it up, I think. Sonderweg is up next if you fancy giving my other story a go. If not, I look forward to seeing you all again next time.

Happy Reading!


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